Something Stupid
by Grommetik
Summary: By the way, it's official. I am obsessed with Ron and Hermione. Anyway, the title tells all: want to read something flufftacular? You've come to the right place. Just a bit of sweet fun, really. Enjoy.
1. One

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SOMETHING STUPID  
**(or, THE IDIOT'S GUIDE TO RON/HERMIONE SHIPPING)  
by pixiepoop**

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AN: Just warning you all: this has the intellectual merit of an episode of Passions so don't expect any great work of art in this. I see it mainly as something to read when you're brain is burnt out (by god these sorts of stupid fics are useful after an exam). Mindless, mindless, squishiness. The only thing it was stimulate is your salivary gland when you start choking on all the fluff. The idiot's guide to Ron/Hermione shipping comes complete with all the right cliches: a wedding, a car trip in which there is sitting on each other, Parvati Patil, Parvati being a dickhead, Hermione being very cool in an "I am strong, I am invincible, I am woman" sort of way, a scene in which Ron brushes Hermione's hair, the usual BW/FD marriage scenario. Basically your average piece of shit. Anyway, enjoy. And watch your step- its squishy. 

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*

There wasn't anything particularly special about that day, but when Hermione looked back, she would be able to pinpoint it as the day when everything changed. 

It was Saturday, there was a Quidditch match, it was the first day of November, and Professor Flitwick had stopped Hermione in the hall to tell her she'd got a hundred and twenty six percent for her last Charms paper. Nothing special, really. 

Gryffindor won, of course- they always did. Now with Ron as their new keeper, the Gryffindor team was playing better than ever. No longer known as "Harry Potter's mate" or "Fred and George's little brother," but "that really good Keeper on the Gryffindor team," Ron had lightened up considerably. He smiled a lot more, complained a lot less, and was generally better tempered and less sulky. Hermione was glad that for once the spotlight was being shared by Harry _and_ Ron, for she knew that Ron often felt jealous and inferior of Harry. With his newfound talent, Ron didn't feel so insignificant compared to Harry's universal fame.

Hermione went down to the changing rooms to congratulate them both after the match-but only found Harry there. "Well done Harry, you were brilliant!" she said, giving him a hug. 

"Thanks," he said wearily, brushing a clod of mud from his hair, "That was the longest game we've had for ages, I'm bloody exhausted."

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked looking around for him. 

"No idea…he was here a moment ago…"

Fred and George came out of the change rooms then, noisy with the exuberance of victory. "We won!" Fred announced loudly. "We kicked their arses!"

"Yes, I saw," said Hermione. "Well played, you two."

"Thanks Hermy-ninny-poo!" George cried, "without the fans where would we be?"

"I dunno…sane?' muttered Harry, as Fred executed a jumping jack of joy into the air while letting out a series of high pitched whoops. He fell straight onto his rump on the muddy ground, taking his brother with him as he tripped. The Weasley twins laughed hysterically while Harry and Hermione exchanged _oh-my-they're-totally-mad_ glances.

"Here he is," Hermione said, as she spotted Ron jogging towards them, splattered with mud. He had a broad grin on his face as he approached. "Hey!" he cried. "We won!"

"I noticed," Hermione said. "Well done, Ron, you were fantastic. You didn't let a single goal get past."

"That's what I'm here for," he joked absent mindedly, as he spotted Fred and George throwing handfuls of mud at each other. "Are those two-? Never mind," he said, deciding he didn't want to know. He hefted his broomstick on his shoulder, "Okay, let's go back up, it's freezing out here."

"Where were you?" Harry questioned, as the three of them started off towards the castle. Fred and George caught up with them, still shoving each other playfully.

"Yeah, Ron, where? 'Cos, like, we really want to know!" Fred giggled, giving Ron a push in the back.

"Bugger off," said Ron, turning around to face Fred, 'It's none of your-"

But the rest of his answer was cut off by a whiffling, whistling noise from overhead. Before anyone had time to say, "Do you hear something funny?" a dusty, feathery lump fell from the sky and hit George square on the head.

"Ow!" he squealed. "What the hell?"

"Oh my god, George, something died on your head!" cried Fred. "Oh, wait…that's just your face." He giggled at his own joke until George elbowed him in the stomach.

"It's Errol!" Ron announced, picking up the family owl from the ground where it had bounced off George's head. "He's got a letter…"

"Must be from mum," Fred said, brushing mud off his robes. But Ron had a huge grin on his face as he untied the scroll of parchment from Errol's leg and then passed the comatose owl to Hermione.

"Nah- it's Bill's handwriting!" Ron said excitedly, and his brothers brightened up immediately. 

"Really? I didn't know he was coming home- what does it say?" George said eagerly.

"Read it out," Fred prompted, and Ron obediently unrolled the letter and read it aloud as they continued walking back up towards the castle.

"Dear Ron, Ginny, Fred and George," Ron read, "I hope this gets to you before Errol dies. I wouldn't have used him, but Percy wouldn't let me borrow Hermes and I thought I'd get the news to you as soon as possible. I know I said I wouldn't be coming home this year for Christmas but there's been a change of plan-" Suddenly Ron stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh my god," he murmured.

"What?" Fred said, suddenly alert. "What's the matter?"

"Is it bad news?" George demanded. 

"Nothing's wrong, it's okay," Ron said quickly to dispel their fears. He was still staring at the letter as though he couldn't believe what he'd just read. "It's just…really good. Shocking."

"What then?" said Fred exasperatedly, looking relieved.

"Spit it out," George urged.

Ron cleared his throat and began reading out the letter again. "I know I said I wasn't coming home for Christmas this year but there's been a change of plan. I've gotten engaged."

That stopped the twins dead in their tracks. For a moment the three Weasley boys stared at each other in amazement.

"Jesus!" said Fred after a while.

"Christ," George added, appropriately. "I didn't even know he had a girlfriend?"

"What else does it say, Ron?"

Ron looked back down at the letter. "Erm…I've gotten engaged. She is coming to stay with us at Christmas. We haven't set the date yet but we will fairly soon, and we'd like to get married some time around Christmas, so you four have to come home this year. Please invite your mates as well, as they're quite welcome to stay," Ron paused in his reading to shoot Harry and Hermione a grin. He then continued, "I guess this has come as a bit of a shock but it's all a bit sudden so forgive me for surprising you. Send your letter back as soon as you can- preferably with an owl a bit sturdier than Errol. Lots of love, Bill."

The Weasley boys grinned at each other.

"He's getting married?" Fred said.

"This is the weirdest thing I've ever heard," George admitted.

"I think it's great," said Ron.

"Yeah, cool," Harry added.

"It's fantastic!" said Hermione. "I've never seen a wizard wedding before."

"Ah, they're boring," said Fred, shouldering his broom as they started walking up towards the castle yet again. "It's the stag nights that are fun."

"How many stag nights have you been to?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. "Aren't they a bit too old for you?"

"Nah, we've been to heaps," George said. "Ron too."

"Yeah, they're great." Ron said, nodding.

"I can't believe this!" Hermione said, turning to Ron, "Your mother actually lets you go to those?"

"Yeah!" said Ron, as though it were obvious. 'She does all the cooking."

"Yep," George said with a contented sigh. "There's nothing like roast stag."

"Especially the way mum cooks it- I can't wait for Bill's stag night." Fred agreed.

"Yeah, it'll be great!" Ron said, grinning again. Laughing, they led the way back up to the castle while Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances. Harry shrugged his shoulders. 

"Pure bloods," he said, rolling his eyes, "they're so weird."

*

Because of Gryffindor's victory, the common room was even more traditionally noisy than usual that night. The room was filled with laughter and music; the butterbeer flowed like wine in some sort of Dionysian legend; and the Gryffindors were once again living up to their reputation as the most boisterous of all houses.

But Hermione wasn't boisterous. In fact, she prided herself on having some self-control in these situations. Not like Fred and George Weasley, who were dancing very exuberantly with each other, nearly decapitating a few people with their Beaters clubs in the process. Not like Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were using one of the cushions to play a one on one game of football, scampering around the room like a pair of monkeys in their effort to keep the ball away from each other. Not like Lavender Brown, who was flirting so openly with a group of sixth year boys that it was enough to make anyone sick.

No. Hermione had _work_ to do. She had made a promise to herself that no matter what amount of partying went on in the common room that night she would work. There was an in class Potions essay on Monday- a particularly nasty one about truth serums. Well, it would be her classmates up the creek without a paddle come Monday morning, not Hermione herself, when they had Potions first thing. 

But it was a bit hard to do with Harry and Ron making so much noise next to her. 

"So let me get this straight," Ron managed to say through snorts of laughter, "Instead of broomsticks, you use bi-tickles-"

"Bicycles, Ron…"

"Yes those- how do they work again?"

It was amazing, she reflected, on having known a person five years and never really seeing their smile. Now, as she looked closer, she saw that dimples appeared in Ron's slightly flushed cheeks as he laughed. Why had she never spotted that before?

Because Ron never lets himself smile like that, she told herself. He's always too caught up in his own troubles. This was something she had known for years, and something she had always pitied Ron for. Harry noticed Hermione giving them a dirty look and shrugged apologetically. " Sorry. I'm not really sure what he finds funny. I was just describing how Muggles use bicycles and he-"

There was a fresh wave of laughter from Ron as he cracked up again. It took a few moments for him to calm down."Okay," he gasped, "okay…I can't breathe…ah ha ha…I mean, imagine sitting on one of those, and having to push yourself around! Ah ha ha! Ha ha ha!"

Fred Weasley came bounding over, closely followed by his identical brother. "Come on you three!" Fred shouted, plonking down three bottles of Butterbeer for them. "Get up! Party! Come on kids, you two are the stars tonight!" he grabbed Harry in a headlock and ruffled his hair. "You gotta love this guy!" he laughed, "the best bloody seeker we've ever had!"

"Ow! Gerroff!"

Unperturbed, George grabbed Harry by his other shoulder and smacked him on the cheek. "We're a shoo in for the cup this year!"

"Not if you maim me first!" gasped Harry, extricating himself from the Weasley's grip. The twins just laughed and ruffled Harry's hair again. 

"You guys are no fun!" George said. He held out his hand to Hermione, "Come on Hermione, dance with us."

"Um…I don't really dance…" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows dubiously. Fred caught sight of his younger brother in fits of laughter.

"What do I see here?" Fred said, his eyes shining with equal feelings of astonishment and amusement. "Ickle Ronnie-kins with a smile on his face!"

George immediately bounded over to Ron and began to tickle him mercilessly. "What's the joke, little brother?"

Ron's laughter dissolved into yells. "Arrgh! Gettoff! Gettoff! Gettoff!" He kicked his long legs about in an effort to get George to release him. Fred, never one to let George have all the fun of torturing their younger brother himself, immediately joined in. Luckily the noise in the common room was at such a height that Ron's howls for mercy could barely be heard. The twins cackled in an identical, evil way and continued their relentless tickling, even as Ron slid off his seat and landed with a thump on the floor. 

"This is very strange," said Harry, watching the tangle of Weaslies flail around on the common room floor. 

"I didn't even know Ron was ticklish," said Hermione in mild surprise. Another thing she didn't know about Ron. This was surprising- two things in one night.

"Help!" Ron was begging, through his laughter "I-I can't breathe! Help me you two!"

Harry shrugged and got to his feet. As soon as he attempted to pull Ron up, however, Fred pushed him down to the ground and suddenly Harry was a part of the fray. The look of surprise on his face was the last thing Hermione saw of him before he disappeared in the tangle of legs, arms, and red hair.

"Fight!" yelled Lee Jordan. A small crowd gathered around the four boys, egging them on, too high on sugar and the thrill of victory to care who was in it- or to notice that they weren't actually fighting.

Hermione sat impassively at her the table watching the fray. From time to time she could see one of Ron's long legs kick out, or Harry's mop of black hair. Around them the crowd got more excited as the boys tussled.

"Argh!" she heard Harry cry, amid the cackles of the Weasley twins. "Hermione! He-help!"

What Hermione really wanted to do at that moment was back away and finish studying for Potions- but then she caught sight of Ron's face- half giggling, half angry- and she decided to help. She drew her wand, got her feet and stood in front of the tumble of bodies. "Petrificus totalus!" she said. Harry, stiff as a board with his arms pinned to his sides, rolled out of the fight.

"Dammit, Hermione!"

"Whoops," said Hermione as the crowd 'booed'. "Bad aim." She flicked her wand again, "Petrificus totalus!"

This time she was dead on target. George suddenly shot up straight as a pole and fell to the floor again- right onto Harry. "Oof!" Harry gasped, as the full weight of a seventeen year old boy hit him in the chest. "Hermione!" yelled George, spotting her holding her wand. "That's not cricket!"

The crowd, sighing their disappointment, began to disperse. Ron, panting hard, managed to get to his feet with Fred still hanging off his neck. He grinned at her."Can you get this one too?" he asked, swinging around so that Fred was in full target.

Hermione shrugged. "Petrificus Totalus!" she said for the third time. But Fred leapt away just in time, and the curse hit Ron just as he swung back around to grab his brother. Ron stiffened, waved from side to side a bit and, with a look of total astonishment on his freckled face, fell forward- straight onto Hermione. 

They hit the floor painfully hard. Hermione felt the breath knocked out of her, heard Ron's gasp of pain. She held out her hands in an effort to stop Ron hitting her head, but now her arms buckled beneath his weight, and his face dropped forward onto hers, so close that their noses were touching.

Hermione could hear what was left of the crowd "oooooh!" in astonishment. She had never seen Ron so close up before- they were exactly eye to eye. His face, pink with exertion, was all astonishment as he looked right into her dark brown eyes. They were both breathing very hard in an attempt to regain their breath. Ron spoke first.

"Are you -okay?" he managed to say through his gasps. By now, the initial shock Hermione had felt was quickly turning into anger. She was suddenly very aware of the compromising position they were in, suddenly very aware of the fact that half of Gryffindor house were staring at them, and suddenly very aware of the fact that Ron had just about the nicest pair of eyes she'd ever seen.

"Get –off- me!" she snapped, feeling her cheeks burn. Ron turned his head to the side and coughed. Then he turned back to her. "It's a bit impossible at the moment,"

Hermione felt a flush of anger and embarrassment. "Can't you roll to the side or something?" she said through gritted teeth. Thankfully, the crowds were beginning to disperse a little more, but the damage had already been done. Tomorrow, there would be more rumours to combat- last year it had been about Hermione and Harry, now there would be stupid stories about Hermione and Ron!

"Are you two okay?" said Harry from where he was lying a few feet away. George was still lying, immobilised, on his stomach.

"Give us a hand, Fred," George complained, and Fred obligingly grabbed his brother by the back of his shirt and heaved him up. "Good. Now fix me." Fred grinned evilly and propped George up against the wall like a broomstick. "Can't help you there, mate. Don't know the counter curse."

"Hermione, what's the counter curse?" Harry asked as Fred pulled him up too.

Hermione was busying herself by trying to push Ron off her person. "Ah, I…I've forgotten it!" she snapped, feeling frazzled and too distracted by the thought of rumours about her and Ron to remember the correct counter curse. Frustrated, she punched Ron on the shoulder.

"Ow!" said Ron. "Don't hit me!"

"Well, help me you great prat!"

Ron blinked at her blankly. "How?" he said, "I'm kind of…limbless, here."

"Can someone give us a hand, please!" Hermione yelled, Ron's mild behaviour in this desperate situation only making her more agitated. But the common room had started partying again, their attention not to be held in one spot too long.

"Fred!" snapped Ron, "Don't stand there staring at us you stupid git! Help me up!"

"Ah, don't pretend you're not enjoying it," said Fred, propping Harry up against the wall beside George. "It's probably the first time you've had a girl underneath y-" 

Suddenly the portrait hole door slammed open. It was Professor McGonagall in her tartan dressing gown. "Now really enough is enough!" she shouted, "It's two am in the morning! I'm very pleased that Gryffindor won but you're keeping the rest of the castle awake and it's time to go to BED!"

"Aw, c'mon Professor," Lee Jordan started, but the professor quickly intervened.

"NO, Jordan! BED! ALL OF YOU! NOW!"

She began shooing people up to their dormitories. Harry, George, Hermione and Ron all turned to Fred. "Well," said Fred cheerfully, "I'm off to bed!" He had a very crafty grin on his face.

"What? No! Wait, you need to get me off Hermione-"

"Sorry, can't hear you!" Fred said, and quickly joined the crowd up to the boys' dorm.

"Come back here you stupid-" George yelled after his brother, but it was then that McGonagall saw them. The expression on her face would have been comical had not the situation been so serious.

"WEASLEY! GRANGER! WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"Please, Professor, I can explain-"

"THAT IS NOT THE DECORUMOF A GRYFFINDOR STUDENT! How DARE you act- with…with such INDISCRETION!"

"No, really, professor It's not what it looks like!"

"WEASLEY! POTTER!" Professor McGonagall said, now turning on Harry and George, "What on earth are you doing, hanging around? I said GO-TO-BED!"

"Er, we can't Professor," said George, fighting to keep a smile of amusement off his face. "We're slightly…stuck."

"What do you mean stuck- WEASLEY! Will you kindly GET OFF Miss Granger at ONCE!"

"I can't professor!" Ron said, "I'm stuck too!"

Professor McGonagall took two quick strides and grabbed Ron by the arm. "You will do what I say AT ONCE or I will see to it that you are-" A look of astonishment crossed her face as she tugged on Ron's arm and found that the rest of his body came with it. In her surprise, she dropped Ron, and he landed back on Hermione. This time their heads clunked together.

"Ow!"

"_Ow!_"

"Oh my…" said Professor McGonagall, reaching into her pocket and drawing out her wand. "_Mobilius totalus!_" Suddenly all three of the formerly frozen Gryffindor students were free. Ron clambered off Hermione quickly, blushing furiously. The four of them quickly assembled in front of Professor McGonagall. "Very well," said Professor McGonagall, breathing through her flared nostrils, "All four of you in my office before breakfast tomorrow. I want a full explanation. Goodnight- and don't forget."

"Yes professor," they chorused. George waited until she was gone before letting forth a stream of swear words directed at his twin brother, and marching up the boys staircase, with intentions of "hexing that git all the way to Australia!"

Harry shook out his arms and legs, looking relieved. "Are you two all right?"

Ron nodded and shot a reproachful look at Hermione. "You realise we're all going to get detention because of you."

"Well, I didn't ask you to fall on me! That was really very rude of you."

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Yeah, well, when your arms and legs are stuck to your sides it's really hard to direct yourself to the ground, Hermione," he snapped.

Hermione flushed. She was still feeling slightly breathless- but somehow she didn't think it was from the fall. She almost felt like apologising, but she quickly pushed that idea out of her head. She never apologised to Ron, as a rule. And besides- what he had just done was basically unforgivable. He must have done it on purpose, the pervert. Harry looked from one to the other and rolled his eyes. "You two can just work this out on your own. I'm going to bed."

He walked up the boys staircase, leaving Ron and Hermione alone. Ron, looking grumpy, threw himself down on a cushion in front of the fire. Hermione resumed her seat at her desk and continued working. But suddenly it was hard. Less than five minutes ago she had literally been closer to Ron than she ever had before. When you're friends with someone for such a long time, it's hard to see them as anything else. But now, Hermione realised, Ron was more than just Ron- he was a young man. No wait- a boy. That sounded better. Less intimidating. Anyone else would have been more immature about the incident. In fact, a few years ago, Ron himself would have been more immature about it. But now, as hard as it was to digest, Hermione realised that Ron was growing up.

"What?" Ron said.

"Hm?" Hermione quickly shook herself out of her reverie. 

"Why're you staring at me?"

"Oh…" Hermione felt her cheeks redden. Had she really been staring at Ron? "I didn't mean to."

Ron shrugged. "It's no problem- I just wanted to know why." Suddenly he grinned.

"You know," he said slowly "it must have looked pretty bad."

"What must have?" she said, looking down at her book.

"Well…McGonagall walking in and.…you know, seeing us."

Hermione fixed him with a petulant stare. "Yes, it did look bad," she said. "But, the point is- we weren't…doing anything, so there's no reason for her to punish us."

Ron shrugged, "I'm just saying, it must have looked pretty bad."

To Hermione's irritation, he perched herself on the edge of her table and read over her shoulder. He

didn't say anything for a while. Then:

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you just now."

She raised her head and looked at him incredulously. "What did you just say?"

Ron looked surprised. "I said, sorry I yelled at you just now."

Hermione frowned. "What do you want?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you being so nice? I mean…I just got you into trouble."

Ron gave her a reproachful look. "Jeez- I don't have any bloody ulterior motive here. I'm just apologising."

"Well," she said, raising her eyebrows, "I can live without apologies, thanks very much."

Ron shrugged. "Suit yourself." He slid off the table and wandered around the common room, humming to himself. It wasn't very long before Hermione's nerves quickly broke.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped, "You're getting on my nerves!"

"Oh. Sorry."

Yet another passive reply! What was wrong with him today? Why wasn't he rising to the challenge? Ron walked over and perched himself on the table again. "Are you all right?' he asked, concern on his freckled face. "You look kind of stressed out."

Hermione looked at him incredulously. She couldn't believe it. Ron was actually showing concern! To her, no less! There was definitely something wrong with him- Ron, though he was incredibly loyal to his friends, rarely expressed concern for them in words.

"Herm? Is there anything I can do?"

"You can stop acting so weird, for a start," Hermione said, regarding him in disbelief. "Seriously, Ron, what is wrong with you? You've been acting so strange all day."

Ron smiled. "Have I?"

"Yes, you have! Now honestly, what is the matter?"

"Nothing…" said Ron. "Except…" He halted ambivalently and then continued slowly, as if scared of her response. "Except…well, you know Parvati Patil?"

"I'm aware of her, yes," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. She _did_ have the misfortune to share a dorm with Parvati for the past four years after all. 

"Well," said Ron, now blushing, and lowering his voice even though there was no one else in the room, "Um, I was really surprised this morning…because well, at the match, just as I was coming out of the changing rooms afterwards… um…Parvati, um…"

"Spit it out," said Hermione, smiling at Ron kindly, "What did she do this time?"

"She told me she really liked me," Ron blurted out, "And she, um …asked me out."

Hermione mouth dropped open. "What?" she said hoarsely.

Parvati Patil liked Ron Weasley? She actually liked Ron? 

"Yeah, I was surprised too- but I wasn't about to complain. I mean, she's…lovely, isn't she?"

"You- you've got to be joking!"

"No, I'm not. Harry thought I was joking too, at first. But I'm not." Ron had a grin on his face.

Hermione could hardly speak for shock. Parvati Patil was the most stuck up girl in Gryffindor, and as far as Hermione knew, she had always disliked Ron- where was this coming from?

"You can't!" she blurted out. Ron looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I mean," Hermione said hurriedly, "Parvati's so…so…so mean to Neville!"

"Is she? I hadn't noticed."

"But Ron, she never does her homework-"

"Neither do I," said Ron, grinning.

"And she…she wears make-up to school- I mean, who's she trying to impress?"

"Me, obviously," Ron laughed, "Hermione, what's wrong with you? Do you not like Parvati?"

"No, it's not that," said Hermione, feeling confused. Why did she suddenly, urgently need to turn Ron away from Parvati? Where had this abrupt desire sprung from? 

"I'm going to bed," she snapped suddenly, standing up and gathering her things. Being in a room with Ron was too distracting right now. (But why?)

"Hermione?' said Ron, scrambling to his feet, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" she said sharply.

"Something's wrong- why are you pissed off suddenly?"

"I am NOT-" she said, mounting the staircase to the girl's dorms, "- pissed off!"

"Then why are you biting my head off?"

Something in Ron's voice made her turn around. He was standing at the bottom of the staircase with a questioning look on his face.

"I'm not! I'm just…" she struggled to find the words, "I'm just…tired. Goodnight, Ron."

"Goodnight, Herm."


	2. Two

The next day was Sunday, and a trip to Hogsmeade was scheduled. It was Ron's plan that he and Parvati should spend the day together. Though they had been in the same house for the past five years, and had just about every class together, there were things Ron just basically didn't know about Parvati. On the surface she appeared to be a very bubbly, pleasant person with a penchant for getting into trouble during class for giggling with Lavender. Ron had no objections to getting to know her- but he was nervous all the same. This was because he was fairly sure Parvati didn't know much about him either. Would she shy away from him once she found out what he was like? Ron was quite aware of his failings- hell, Hermione reminded him of them at least once a day- and he had been wondering, lately, whether people in love were able to put up with their partner's irritating character traits. Obviously they could in most cases, otherwise no one would get married. 

"Does that make sense to you?" Ron asked Harry, after he had expressed this theory to his friend. They were standing at the bottom of the girl's staircase, waiting for Hermione and George so that they could go and see Professor McGonagall together.

Harry shrugged, running his hand along the banister. "I guess so," he said. "You've got to learn to live with people's faults, because most people don't change."

"Unless they want to."

"Unless they want to," Harry agreed. Hermione appeared at the top of the staircase and began to descend. There were bags under her eyes and an irritable expression on her face. 

"Ready?' said Harry. "You look tired."

"Where's George?" she said.

"Right here," George said, jogging down the boys' staircase with Fred close behind. "Into the dragon's den we go." 

Fred followed them down to the marble staircase, sniggering all the way, and then they parted. Ron had never been in professor McGonagall's office before, so he followed the other three- George, who considered it a waste of week if he wasn't sent to McGonagall's at least six times, knew the way by heart. George and Harry were talking about yesterday's Quidditch match, but Hermione remained grumpily silent, and Ron hadn't the heart to join in. Normally he would have loved a good banter about Quidditch to take his mind off the impending prospect of his date with Parvati- but Hermione looked so tired and grumpy- and he knew talking about Parvati might only set her off again like she did last night. Her unexplainable anger after Ron had announced he was now dating Parvati puzzled him. The only fathomable reason he could come up with for her sudden rise in temper was that she didn't like Parvati. That would make anyone grumpy. Ron certainly remembered feeling a rush of anger every time Hermione was with Viktor Krum. (Ron _hated _Viktor Krum.)

It must be some sort of instinctive friendship thing, he told himself.

"Well, here we are," said George cheerfully, stopping in front of McGonagall's office door. 

"What're you so happy about?" Ron said, raising his eyebrows, "We're really about to get in trouble here."

"Correction," said George, pointing to Ron and Hermione "_You_ two are about to get in trouble here." He grinned at them cheekily. "Harry and I weren't the ones on top of each other."

"So why are we here?" asked Harry, as Ron felt a sinking sense of doom in his stomach.

"To watch, of course. Sit back and enjoy it," said George, as he rapped smartly on the door. He turned back to Hermione with a slight look of concern on his face. "You okay Herm? Did you have a late night?" Just then, the door swung open of its own accord, and Professor McGonagall bade them enter.

It took a little while before Hermione and Ron were able to explain themselves- Professor McGonagall's disapproval was quelling in its entirety. However, after hearing the full explanation, she let them off with a stern lecture, ten house points from each of them and a warning to Hermione about practising curses in the common room.

"See kids?" said George chirpily as they headed out to the Great Hall, "Nothing to it. McGonagall's a softie, really."

"Yeah, and she just loves us," said Harry sarcastically. 

"What teacher doesn't?" said Ron with a grin. "See Hermione? That wasn't so ba-"

Hermione had already started stalking towards the Gryffindor table ahead of them. Ron and Harry exchanged a glance and hurried after her. 

"What's the matter?" said Ron, giving her a gentle nudge in the arm as they caught up to her.

"Nothing!" she snapped. "I just wish everyone would stop asking me that!"

"Well, then tell us what's wrong," Harry said, grabbing her arm. "Slow down!"

Unfortunately at that moment Parvati Patil, already sat at the Gryffindor table, stood up and waved at them. Hermione wrenched her arm free of Harry's grip and stalked away from them.

'Where're you going?" Ron called after her.

"The library," Hermione threw over her shoulder, and stomped off. Harry and Ron stared after her in bewilderment.

"What've we done now?" Harry said incredulously.

"I wouldn't worry about it, boys," George said, giving Harry a too-hearty slap on the back, which sent him stumbling into Ron, "Probably just her time of the month."

"Errgh!" said Ron wrinkling his nose, but he was bothered by it. It wasn't unusual for Hermione to get in a bad mood with him and Harry for no reason, but it still annoyed him. He couldn't remember doing anything to Hermione, unless she was still annoyed at him for falling on her last night- but that couldn't be it because they hadn't gotten into trouble…

"Should we go after her?" Ron said dubiously. At this, George grabbed Ron by the back of the head and twisted it so that he was facing the Gryffindor table, where Parvati was standing with her hands on her hips. That, and the smell of breakfast, pushed Hermione out of Ron's mind for a while. 

When it was time to go to Hogsmeade, and Hermione still hadn't reappeared, Harry went to go and fetch her from the library and told Ron to go ahead with Parvati. Being early October, it was windy and overcast, but the prospect of rain seemed improbable, and the younger students enjoyed kicking up the piles of leaves that spread all over the lawn.

Ron had been worried that conversation between them would be awkward, but surprisingly, it was Parvati who started talking to him.

"This was such a good idea, Ron," she said happily, taking his arm, "I mean, Hogsmeade is just the most romantic place, don't you think?"

"Romantic?' said Ron, "Um…yes."

"So how come Harry's allowed to go there, now? He wasn't in third year, was he?"

"Oh, he convinced his uncle to sign it," Ron lied quickly.  
"Really? Are the Muggles he lives with really that terrible? I've heard they are but I didn't believe it…"

And so conversation continued in that vein all the way to Hogsmeade. Ron was quite happy to talk about Harry- he was his best friend after all, and if that was a common talking point for them, then so be it. In Hogsmeade, they walked around the different shops and strolled up to the shrieking shack. Parvati was very interested to know all about the different adventures he, Harry and Hermione had had over the years, and Ron was only too obliged to tell her. Parvati was also very eager to tell Ron about herself, and, over lunch at the three broomsticks, Ron learnt more about Parvati in half an hour than he had in the five years he'd been at school with her.

Parvati, as it turned out, was pure blood like himself, and had an older brother as well as an identical twin sister. Her mother and father had moved to England from India when Parvati and Padma were only a year old. She liked going for romantic strolls along the beach, dinner by candlelight, holding hands and eating ice cream. Her favourite subject was Divination and her least favourite was Transfiguration. She dreamed of owning her very own unicorn one day, but hoped never to see another Blast-ended Skrewt in her life. France was the most romantic country in the world and she hoped to live there one day, and the best time she'd had at Hogwarts had been at the Yule Ball.

"I can't just go out with any boy," she said earnestly. "It has to be someone really special. That's why I'm so glad that you understand how I feel. You're very special, Ron."

"Oh," said Ron, going pink, "um…thanks." He searched for a compliment. "And you're…um, very pretty."

She beamed at him- obviously Ron had said the right thing. "Come on," she said, taking his hand, "Let's go back to Hogwarts. We can go for a walk around the lake!"

Ron obediently followed her out of the Three Broomsticks. Fred, who was sitting with George at the counter, caught his eye and winked. Ron grinned at his brother as Parvati dragged him out of the pub. They almost smashed into Harry and Hermione, who were just walking in.

"Hi," said Harry, grinning at them both, "how's it going?"

"Hi Harry!" Parvati said, beaming at him. Harry raised his eyebrows. Parvati's friendly greeting was extremely out of character- since the Yule Ball last year, Parvati had hated the sight of Harry. "Oh, hi Hermione," she said, with less enthusiasm. "What's the matter? You don't look very happy."

Hermione was indeed still looking grumpy. She was obviously there against her will- Harry had probably had to drag her to Hogsmeade from the school library. Ron saw Hermione glance at Parvati's hand, entwined with his own. She raised her eyebrows and looked away. "Hi Parvati, hi Ron." she said quietly. "Er, where are you guys off to?" Harry said, looking at Ron.

Parvati smiled and slipped her arm around Ron's waist. "Well, we were just off to walk around the lake- isn't he romantic?" she giggled. Ron felt his cheeks go red. 

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched. "Yeah, he sure is."

"And where are you two off to?" Parvati said, raising her eyebrows. 

"Just going to have a butterbeer," Harry said, gesturing into the pub.

"Well, how about we join them?" Parvati said, smiling up into Ron's face.

"Uh…sure," said Ron.

"What about your romantic walk around the lake?" said Hermione quickly, giving Ron an unreadable look.

"Oh, we can do that another time, can't we, Ron?" Parvati said giving him a squeeze.

"Sure," said Ron obediently. Harry shrugged and they all went inside. Ron felt relieved actually- he wasn't sure what people were supposed to do on romantic walks around lakes. Hermione looked like this as the last place she wanted to be, but she sat down at one of the small circular tables anyway, while Parvati continued to chatter about something.

"…And I just love Madame Rosmerta's shoes, don't you Ron? They're so stylish! What do you think, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at Parvati blankly. "About what?"

"Rosmerta's shoes!"

"Oh…I hadn't noticed them actually."

Parvati made an exasperated noise in her throat. "How can you not?"

Ron didn't understand Parvati's fascination with shoes, but didn't say so. He looked to Hermione with a puzzled expression on his face for some explanation, but she was studying the tablecloth as though she wished it were a book. Harry came back with four butterbeers, and Parvati quickly struck up a conversation with him about his amazing performance in yesterday's Quidditch match. Hermione remained silent and sulky. Probably because she was sitting at the table with Parvati, Ron surmised.

If it were true that Hermione really didn't like Parvati, then how was this going to work? He wanted his friends to like the person he liked. Parvati and Harry certainly seemed to get along well- in fact, Ron couldn't remember a time when Parvati was so friendly towards Harry. It was good that she was making an effort, and forgetting her grudge that she'd held against Harry since the Yule Ball.

But if Hermione hated Parvati so much, well, then, they'd have a hard time getting along all together. 

Come to think of it, though Ron couldn't really see Parvati joining in with some of their activities- giggling in Divination, visiting Hagrid and helping him with his garden, sneaking around the school after hours under the invisibility cloak, or taking it in turns to zoom around the stadium on Harry's Firebolt. Parvati was too much of a…girl.

"That's what Ron thinks- right Ron?" Harry was saying.

"Sorry, what?" Ron shook himself out of his reverie.

"Remember how you were saying that the new defence Against the Dark Arts Professor seemed a bit on the suspicious side?"

"Hmm? Oh- yeah, yeah, she's definitely a bit off," Ron said. 

"What do you think, Harry?" said Parvati.

"I think I agree with Ron," Harry said.

"Well, yes, me too," said Parvati eagerly. Hermione's eyes left the tablecloth to study Parvati's face momentarily, but then immediately returned to their former fascination.

Ron caught Harry's eye and nodded to Hermione. "What's wrong with her?" he mouthed.

Harry shrugged. Ron sighed. "Look, Hermione, I know you're sick of us asking, but really- what's the matter?"

Hermione looked up sharply, went through a moment's indecision, and assumed a surprised expression. "What makes you think something is wrong?"

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Don't be stupid. You've been moping around all day, and you've hardly spoken to us at all."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron could see Parvati watching the scene with interest. 

"Oh," said Hermione, noticing Parvati's stare as well, "I'm just thinking about…my Charms essay, because I…need to finish it. In fact, I need some fresh air."

She pushed back her chair and hurried out of the pub.

"Well!" said Parvati after the boys exchanged another glance. "What on earth is her problem?"

*

Hermione ran out of the pub and down the main street, realising she'd just made it worse, realising that Parvati was probably making some snide comment to Ron at this moment, and realising that tonight in the common room she'd probably be pestered by Ron and Harry until she told them what was wrong. But she couldn't tell them what was wrong, and there was a reason for that: basically, she didn't know what was wrong herself.

The sight of Parvati cuddling up to Ron, holding his hand like that, giggling into his face- it drove her crazy. But that wasn't the real problem- the real problem was that she didn't know_ exactly why_ she felt like that_._ She sat down under a tree and massaged her temples. She had to figure out why or she was going to drive herself insane.

Okay. Think laterally, she told herself. That's the only way to figure this out logically.

__

Firstly, what's the problem?

The problem is I don't know why Ron and Parvati together makes me so angry.

__

All right: why is that a problem?

Because I should be happy for him. 

__

And why should you be happy for him?

Because he's my friend, and he deserves someone to make him feel special, and now he's found someone. Though I don't know why Harry and I weren't good enough for him. Why he had to go running to the stuck up snob I don't know-

__

Stop right there. There's the problem.

Where?

__

You "don't know why you and Harry weren't good enough for him."

So?

__

Don't you get it? You're jealous. 

No I'm not!

__

Yes you are. You_ want to be the one to make Ron happy._

Hermione sat bolt upright. What on earth was she telling herself? This was ridiculous- _she_ didn't want to be the one to make Ron happy! It wasn't as though she fancied him or anything. How could she? He was her friend. And he had succumbed to the flirtatious ways of that stuck up snob-

__

There you go again. Ooher, you are sooooo jealous, Hermione.

I am NOT jealous of Ron Weasley, she told herself sternly. OR Parvati Patil. If Ron is shallow enough to actually believe that she'll accept him, with his bad temper and lack of focus, well, then, they deserve each other!

__

Jealous.

"Rrrgh!" Hermione made a frustrated noise in her throat. She had to stop telling herself that, or she'd actually start believing that she was jealous. And that was truly ridiculous. What she had to do was lay out the facts calmly and one by one. 

"All right," she said aloud, pulling a quill and a piece of paper out of her pocket. "Fact number one."

Fact Number 1: Ron is my friend.  
Fact number 2:I am NOT jealous.  
Fact number 3:I should be happy for him  
Fact number 4:I am not, as yet, happy for him, and I don't know why  
Fact number 5:It is NOT because I am jealous  
Fact number 6:Parvati is shallow  
Fact number 7:So is Ron, but-  
Fact number 8:He deserves someone with more depth than Parvati  
Fact number 9:I don't want to see him get hurt

She stopped and looked incredulously at the sentence she'd just written. _I don't want to see him get hurt._

"Well of course I don't!" she said aloud. "He's my friend. No one wants to see their friends get hurt."

__

But if you don't accept his new girlfriend, then you will hurt him.

Hermione sighed. "Dead right," she said gloomily, returning the parchment and quill to her pocket.

This was ridiculous. What she had to do was get over it and attempt to accept Parvati Patil, otherwise she'd hurt Ron's feelings. Which was the last thing she wanted to do. He was being so lovely lately- it would hardly be sporting to throw his good nature back in his face.


	3. Three

After about two weeks, it had become obvious that Parvati Patil and Ron Weasley were a couple. Ron didn't object- he liked being a couple, and it gave him great satisfaction to walk into the Great Hall at mealtimes with the prettiest girl in fifth year on his arm. Sometimes she would even kiss him in the Great Hall- in front of everyone and the teachers. "Just so everyone knows we're a couple," she would say with a smile. 

To Ron's utmost relief, Hermione was obviously making an effort to accept Parvati's presence. She was fairly chilly to her when she started following them around for the first few days, but she was obviously making an effort to be nice. They'd been a trio for so long even Ron found it weird to have a fourth person with them. Now it wasn't Harry that he would partner in Charms, it was Parvati. During Divination Parvati and Lavender would sit with Harry and Ron now- Ron had to remember to control himself and not giggle, because Parvati had a great amount of respect for the subject and its Professor. It was very hard, with Harry on one side sniggering at Professor Trelawney's mad predictions, and Parvati on the other giving Ron disapproving looks as if it were _him_ giggling.

On the other hand, Parvati had very little respect for his favourite subject, and indeed, even less for its teacher. In Care of Magical Creatures Parvati felt free to insult Hagrid as much as she wanted- "Look at him, he looks like he hasn't washed for a decade," was a favourite- and Ron found himself completely unable to defend Hagrid, even though Harry and Hermione would glare at Parvati every time she said something derogatory about the half giant.

Things were progressing nicely, however. It came to Ron's realisation that yes, Parvati was slightly stuck up; yes, she was awfully harsh to Neville sometimes; and yes, if Ron even attempted to do any homework in the evening she would immediately distract him or berate him for being a "goody two shoes". But she was absolutely gorgeous, and made him feel special, and Ron didn't mind, really - it was a nice change from being bossed into doing homework by Hermione.

One day, however, he was called up to Professor McGonagall's desk at the end of Transfiguration. Everyone else was shuffling around and picking up their belongings- Ron looked around for Parvati, to ask her to wait for him- but she was busy talking to Harry.

"Mr. Weasley- today, please," said professor McGonagall sharply. Hermione caught his eye and raised her eyebrows. Ron shrugged and shuffled up to Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Yes professor?"

Professor McGonagall folded her hands and looked at him sternly over her glasses.

"Now, Mr. Weasley- surely you are aware of your failing performance at school.'

Ron looked down. So that was what it was about.

"Your other teachers have told me that you haven't handed in a scrap of homework for weeks. You hardly take any notes in class, and you're certainly not paying attention to what you should be," she said sternly. "Now just what seems to be the problem?"

Ron looked up tentatively but one look at her unfeeling expression sent his gaze downward again. He didn't think he should say anything right there, so he remained silent.

"I see," said professor McGonagall quietly. "Well, you should know that we have sent a letter home to your parents informing them of your performance."

Now Ron looked up, aghast. "Oh, no!"

"Oh no indeed," said Professor McGonagall grimly. "I daresay your mother won't be pleased." She paused for effect. "It is usual in these situations," she continued, "for the Head of House to deal with you appropriately. But Professor Dumbledore has requested he speak to you himself."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "You what? I mean…" he said quickly, looking at her formidable expression, "You what, Professor?"

"He requested that you come and talk to him immediately after dinner. I trust you know the way to his office?"

"Er, no, actually, I've never been-"

"Never mind. I daresay Mr. Potter could direct you. Now Ronald," she said, in her sternest voice, "I must implore you to take this seriously. If you do not begin to put more time into your studies, then you will not pass fifth year."

"What- you mean…I'd have to do it again?" Ron stammered disbelievingly.

"That is exactly what I mean. And, looking at your grades now, I'd say that is where you're headed. Is that understood?"

"Yes Professor. "

"Good. Now go to dinner- professor Dumbledore doesn't want you to be too late."

Ron shouldered his bag despondently and left, closing the door behind him. To his surprise, he found Hermione waiting for him outside the door.

"Hermione- what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Waiting for you." Hermione answered matter-of -factly. "What did she want?"

Ron grimaced. "She says I'm failing."

"Failing?" repeated Hermione, "but…by how much?"

"She says if I don't improve…" he sighed. "I'll have to repeat."

"Oh no! That's terrible, Ron-" she seized his arm, "You've got to catch up! You can't repeat!"

"Tell me about it," Ron mumbled, "She's already sent a note home to my mum. I'll probably be getting a Howler in the mail any day now. But…" he sighed again, "I don't know if I will be able to catch up, Hermione. I'm just…too stupid I suppose. I don't understand any of it."

She stopped him and looked fiercely up into his face. "Ron, listen to me: If you ever say that again, I will slap you. You are NOT stupid, and you are smart enough- I know you are. All right?"

"All right," said Ron, a little surprised. "Er…thanks, Hermione."

Hermione let go of his arm suddenly and quickened her pace into the Great hall. Harry and Parvati were already sat next to each other at the Gryffindor table. Parvati was saying something and Harry was nodding politely. Ron took a seat next to Hermione. Upon informing them of what professor McGonagall had told him, Harry's eyes widened to twice their normal size.

"Oh my God," he said finally. "But…that can't happen."

"It's not," Hermione said firmly, "We're going to help Ron catch up, aren't we, Harry?"

"Yeah, of course!" Harry said, leaning back in his chair. "Jesus Christ."

Ron managed a smile. "Thanks you guys. So will you show me that way to Dumbledore's office, Harry?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, looking perturbed as he served himself some mashed potato. Ron looked at Parvati, hoping to find as much comfort in her. But she hadn't paid attention to the conversation at all- she was showing her newly varnished nails to Lavender, who was sat on her other side. 

When Ron, feeling too nervous to eat, pushed back his half-finished dinner and motioned for Harry to come with him, Parvati demanded to know where he was going. She hadn't seemed to notice that he was oddly silent over dinner, instead, she had focused most of her attention on Harry and Lavender.

"Where're you going?" she said, frowning at him. "You haven't finished your dinner."

Hermione stood up next to Ron. "And I can tell you really care," she said coldly. Parvati's mouth dropped open. 

"Uh oh," said Harry.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Parvati demanded of Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why don't you figure it out for yourself?" she snapped.

"Hermione…" said Harry warningly.

Parvati immediately looked at Ron. "Are you going to let her speak to me like that?"

Hermione turned to Ron and folded her arms. "Are you going to let her speak to _you_ like that?"

"I, er…" Ron stammered, going red. Some of the Gryffindors were watching the scene with interest.

"Just what are you talking about Hermione Granger?" Parvati said. "I don't know _what_ you're trying to say here, but-"

"All right, I'll tell you, seeing as you're too clueless to figure it out," Hermione snapped. "Stop treating Ron like he's nothing. I mean, you hardly noticed him until he got up to leave! He's not here to answer your beck and call! He's not your servant!"

"Hermione, don't-" Ron started, looking worriedly at Parvati's angry face.

Parvati's eyes flashed, "Just what are you trying to suggest?"

Hermione slapped herself on the forehead and looked up to the enchanted ceiling in despair. "My god, she's thicker than I thought!"

Parvati gasped angrily. "How _dare_ you!" She looked at Ron indignantly, "Well? Are you just going to stand there and let her insult me?"

Ron looked from one angry face to the other. "Um, yes, I mean- no of course not. I mean- Hermione," he said, turning to her desperately. "Um…don't be so mean to Parvati, okay?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, breathing hard through her nose. "Fine," she said finally, and stalked upstairs. 

*

Ron and Harry made a hasty exit to Dumbledore's office. The stone gargoyle that usually stood in front of the hidden entrance was already moved aside- in anticipation of Ron's meeting, he assumed. Harry promised to wait for him and Ron mounted the moving staircase that lead, up, up, up, to Dumbledore's office.

It took him a while to work p the courage to knock on the door tentatively.

"Come in," came the deep rumble of Professor Dumbledore's voice from inside.

Ron went in. Professor Dumbledore was sat at his desk, amid an office full of some contraptions Ron had never seen before, despite his Wizarding heritage. Dumbledore smiled benignly at Ron. "Good evening, Ronald."

"Good evening, Professor," Ron answered nervously. Dumbledore bade him sit down and then shuffled through some papers for a few minutes. He then took off his half moon spectacles and smiled at Ron.

"Having trouble with school?" he said finally.

"A bit," Ron admitted.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, nodding understandingly. Then after another short silence, "You are surprised to be asked to see me?"

"A bit," Ron said again.

Dumbledore nodded. "Normally I don't have the time to talk to every failing student. But its hardly possible to let the son of one our best ministry workers to go on failing, is it?" he gave Ron yet another warm smile, and Ron smiled back this time, feeling a little better. Dumbledore got to his feet and began pacing around the room.

"I haven't met a fifth year student who does not go through the year without a little homework trouble," he mused, "But I'm afraid your problem is most concerning." He looked at Ron piercingly. "Especially for someone who has been doing so well for his past four years at this school."

Ron blinked. He'd always though his marks were fairly mediocre, especially compared to Hermione's and Harry's.

Dumbledore continued: "But I understand some changes have come about your life of late. I have written a letter to your family extending my congratulations to your older brother, by the way. It may surprise you to learn that he went through trouble in his fifth year as well."

"Bill did?' said Ron in surprise. "But he's…he's perfect."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Nobody is perfect Mr. Weasley. One of life's lessons is we all must learn is to accept other people and their faults. And though your brother had a short temper, was reckless and rude, and had an irrepressible stubborn streak, people accepted him very well, and he went on to become Head Boy, as you know." He stopped in front of the window and looked out it nostalgically. "Yes…there are times when I can see your brother in you, as well."

"Me?' said Ron incredulously. "But…I'm nothing like Bill!"

Again, Dumbledore chuckled. "Family members are always closer than one thinks." He smiled at Ron for a moment or two then seemed to realise that Ron was there for a reason. "I had to call Harry in here last week on some news concerning his godfather. He happened to mention that you have won the affections of Miss Patil."

Ron blushed. "Uh…yes professor."

"Am I close to the truth in saying that perhaps it is she that is distracting you?"

Ron blushed deeper and looked at his feet. "Um…I think so Professor."

"Ah yes…love truly is blind," said Dumbledore softly. Ron looked up in surprise.

"Sir?" he said. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that whatever appears on the surface is always concealing something deeper."

Ron tried to think of something deeper about Parvati. Finding nothing, he decided to look at his feet again. Dumbledore's blue eyed gaze was piercing- it felt as though the Professor was looking right through him. "Are you sure that you've looked deeper Ron?" Dumbledore said softly.

"I'm not sure I can sir," Ron admitted, hoping he knew what the Professor was talking about. _Was_ there anything more to Parvati? When he'd first started the relationship with her he'd though she was a pleasant, happy girl who often got into trouble with teacher for giggling with Lavender during class- and basically, that was what he still thought of her.

"Well then," said Dumbledore, "I advise you to be wary." He looked at his watch while Ron was still struggling to understand what the Professor had said. "Dear me, look at the time. I gather you have homework to do, Mr. Weasley." He gave Ron another smile, blue eyes twinkling, and raised his bushy eyebrows. "I hope to see an improvement. I would of course, love to keep you at Hogwarts as long as possible but I gather your mother would not be well pleased with that arrangement." 

Ron grinned. "No professor. Thanks, professor."

"You're most welcome." He opened the door for Ron and gestured him out. "Good luck."

"Thanks, professor. Good night."

*

Hermione had intended to ignore Ron for a good three days or so- she had actually tried to defend him, and how had he repaid her? Siding with that snob, Parvati! But then again she should have expected that. Ron was so superficial, and just because Parvati was pretty he, of course, had to side with her. That was the only reason boys liked her anyway- because she was pretty. She wasn't a good person or anything. Couldn't Ron see that? She had tried her hardest to be nice to Parvati, but it had to be said- Parvati obviously didn't like Ron as much as she appeared to. She spent as much time as she could sucking up to Harry, and didn't even seem to care when Ron told her about his failing grades. (Of course, Parvati had been failing since her first year at Hogwarts so the teachers just assumed she was a lost cause.) Well, when Parvati broke Ron's heart, _she_, Hermione, wasn't going to offer her shoulder for him to cry on. If he was shallow enough to go out with someone simply because they were pretty, then he deserved it. So Hermione was going to ignore Ron, for being stupid and superficial and telling her not to be so mean to Parvati. That wimpy guy, giving in to a pretty face. So typical.

But he came back from his meeting with Dumbledore _so_ concerned, _so_ worried, _so_ desperately in need of help that Hermione couldn't help herself. For once he was asking for her help, instead of telling her to go away and stop being so bossy. And Hermione couldn't help gloating over it.

"If you had asked for my help earlier then we could have saved all this trouble," she scolded lightly as they went over some Transfiguration diagrams. "I can help you every night if you need it."

"I know, you're right," Ron said meekly, "Thanks, Herm. That's really generous of you."

Hermione glowed. Harry grinned. Parvati glowered.

"Ron, why don't we go for a walk around the lake?" she interrupted, batting her eyelashes at him. "It'll be really romantic."

He looked at her and shrugged. "I'm really sorry Parvati, but I should study. Tomorrow's Saturday, we can go walking all day then."

Parvati pouted. "But moonlight is so much more beautiful. Please Ron?" She draped her arms around his neck and pulled herself onto his lap. "Pretty please?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry, who shrugged and gave her a wink.

Ron was smiling. "I don't know if I should…"

Parvati twinkled at him. "Well, maybe this will convince you." She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. Harry and Hermione both turned away quickly. Fred and George, however, noticed and started cheering and clapping.

"Whoo! Go Ron!" 

"Get a room, you two!"

Ron broke away and grinned at her. "Convinced?" Parvati said. Ron looked like he was.

"Ron!" Hermione said sharply, "We still haven't covered Switching Spell graphs. You need to know how to do those to complete the next segment, you know."

Ron looked vaguely at her, like he didn't know what she was talking about. "Uh, maybe tomorrow Hermione." Parvati shot her a triumphant look and slid off his lap so that he could stand up.

Harry, sensing trouble at the look on Hermione's face, put a hand on her shoulder. "Um, Hermione, leave it until tomorrow, yeah?"

Hermione exhaled through her nose. "It's no skin off my nose if he's wants to repeat," she said, turning sharply to face Harry. "In fact, I don't care at all."

But she did care, she realised, lying awake that night. Unable to sleep, she found herself looking the list of facts she had tried to lay out weeks ago.

Fact Number 1: Ron is my friend.  
Fact number 2:I am NOT jealous.  
Fact number 3:I should be happy for him  
Fact number 4:I am not, as yet, happy for him, and I don't know why  
Fact number 5:It is NOT because I am jealous  
Fact number 6:Parvati is shallow  
Fact number 7:So is Ron, but-  
Fact number 8:He deserves someone with more depth than Parvati  
Fact number 9:I don't want to see him get hurt

Angrily, she picked up a quill and scrubbed out fact number nine, then rewrote it.

__

Fact Number Nine: Then again, I don't really care.


	4. Four

Letters came from The Burrow. Bill, too prosaic a person to have a long romantic engagement and a big white wedding, had set the date: Christmas Day. His fiancee (whom Ron still had to meet) had agreed. So, Mrs. Weasley was going insane, trying to organise a wedding with as many Weasleys as she could invite. She had invited both Harry and Hermione to stay with them for the Christmas holidays, and, with December only a month away, Ron was quite looking forward to spending Christmas with his two best friends at his own house, even if it was amid a wedding (which would no doubt generate more chaos than usual at the Weasley household). He had written to his mother to ask if he could bring an extra guest (Parvati), but he was still waiting for a reply. Meanwhile, he was working as hard as he could to catch up, even though it risked the disapproval of Parvati. But if he succumbed to Parvati's wishes and took her for a walk around the lake or goofed off from homework, then he caught Hermione's disapproval in full blast. 

Between Quidditch training and the two girls and their cold war, Ron was quite glad when he had some time alone with Harry for what seemed like the first time in ages. In care of Magical creatures, they had begun to study jarveys- overgrown ferrets which had the ability to imitate human speech in short, and often rude, phrases. They liked to eat garden gnomes, or, as a substitute, caterpillars. So Hagrid had enlisted the help of Ron and Harry to search through the long grass around his cabin for caterpillars.

"Got one," Ron cried triumphantly, holding up the small, green wriggling thing between his thumb and forefinger. He put it in his bucket, already half full of caterpillars. Harry grinned, and held up his own bucket, already nearly full. "Beating you," he said.

"As always," Ron said, smiling sheepishly.

Harry dusted off his dirt stained hands thoughtfully. "I don't think so- you got a girlfriend before me, didn't you?"

Ron shrugged. "We don't compete. That was hardly a contest between us, was it?" 

Harry grinned again. "It might be soon- You're turning into a regular Romeo."

"What's a Romeo?"

"Never mind," Harry said, "What I mean is, you're getting a lot of attention from the girls lately."

Ron blinked at him blankly. "What girls?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at him, "Well, face the facts Ron- you've got both Parvati and Hermione vying for your attention every night- they've already had one fight over you, and Hermione's never been so openly rude to Parvati before. You know, ever since you started going out with Parvati…" Harry shook his head, "If I didn't know better I'd say Hermione was jealous."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "What? Hermione? Jealous? Of _me?_" It was the most ridiculous theory he'd ever heard. "Wha- why? Why would she be jealous of me?"

"What do you mean, why? Because you're going out with Parvati!"

"So?"

"So, suddenly all your attention is focused elsewhere, and it's bothering her!"

Ron blinked even harder. He wasn't sure they were really having this conversation. "What are you tyring to say? That Hermione fancies me or something?"

Harry shrugged uneasily. "I don't know…lately all she seems to talk about is how wrong Parvati is for you. They don't like each other very much, and-"

"Wait a moment- Hermione doesn't think Parvati is right for me?"

Harry shrugged again and studied the ground, "That's just the impression that I'm getting Ron."

"In what way is she "not right for me"? And how would Hermione know?"

"She didn't actually say that!" Harry said, looking a little exasperated.

"Well then, what did she say?"

"I don't know!" Harry said, throwing up his hands, "Lots of stuff! Stuff like…Parvati's just a pretty face, and Parvati's a heartbreaker and she'll end up hurting your feelings, and how, when Parvati does hurt your feelings, don't expect Hermione to comfort you, because you should know that Parvati's nothing more than just a pretty face, and how she didn't think you were so shallow, and-"

"What?" Ron said angrily, "Are you serious?" he threw down his bucket, sending a pile of green caterpillars spilling out over the lawn. "I can't believe this! She hardly knows Parvati! And it's not like my relationship is any of her business, anyway! This is…this is so like her! She thinks she knows everything, and she thinks everyone needs her to function properly! Well I don't! I can do without Hermione Granger's shoulder to cry on, thanks very much, and _what_ makes her think that I'd go to her for comfort anyway? I don't need her!"

Harry looked at Ron with a pained expression on his face. "That's a lie, you know it's a lie. You do need her. Especially now, with all that extra help she's giving you. She's worrying about your homework more than she is her own, these days."

"Well, I didn't _ask_ for her help-"

Harry stared at him. "Yes you did. I was there when you said "Hermione, you've got to help me catch up." Remember?"

Ron scowled. "Okay…but I didn't think she'd take it upon herself to make sure I was the top student in fifth year."

Harry shrugged and smiled. "You know Hermione. She's a perfectionist, and she's got to be the best."

"Yeah, well," said Ron, and couldn't think of anything else to say. "Yeah, well," he repeated, "You know that's just because she's…she's just…such a know it all goody two shoes."

Harry looked confused. "No she isn't. She's just being herself."

Ron kicked his bucket, sending more caterpillars spraying over the lawn. "Well…I can do without her help. I can do perfectly fine on my own, you know. I don't need _her_ to get an A in Transfiguration."

"If you say so," said Harry, bending down to pick up a wriggling caterpillar. 

"Exactly!" ranted Ron, "just because Hermione's got control of her own life, she thinks she can control everyone else's!"

"You really think so?" Harry questioned. "You really think she's got perfect control of her own life?"

"Well she certainly acts like it!" snapped Ron. "I don't see why she's got to boss me around all the time. She's always nagging and prying and she never leaves me alone!"

Harry stood up, an incredulous expression on his face. "What are you _talking_ about?" he said. "Ron- Hermione's your friend. Why shouldn't she hang around?"

Ron paused before answering. "Some friend!" he said finally, with a fresh burst of anger, "If she was any kind of friend, she'd leave me alone and let me get on with my work- I mean, just because she wants to be perfect doesn't mean I have to be!"

Harry stared for a moment or two, incredulous bewilderment on his face, looking at Ron as though he'd never seen anything like him before. Harry opened his mouth, and tried to find words but couldn't- he just gaped for a bit. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. "You're mad."

"I'm not," Ron snapped.

"You are- you're being stupid. Hermione's only trying to help and you're throwing her good nature back in her face."

"_Good nature_? Ron repeated, "She doesn't have any good nature! Well not for me, anyway. She's mean and bossy and self centred, Harry, and I'm sick of her!"

"Look, are you going to make a habit of missing the point?" Harry snapped, his temper flaring for the first time, "because you seem to be doing it and awful lot lately and I can't help thinking it's not Hermione's fault- it's yours."

"_What's_ my fault?" Ron snapped back.

"The fighting- you two, you're always constantly bickering and biting each other's heads off- and it doesn't roll off her back the way it rolls off yours, you know. She's still a person with feelings Ron, but you never seem to notice. Maybe you should actually pay some attention to her and then you'll find out that your opinion of her is completely wrong- even though you've been friends with her for the past four years!" Harry stopped suddenly, as though realising what he was saying. The two boys stared at each other for a moment, Harry angrily; Ron shocked- until Harry sighed and hefted the bucket of caterpillars. "This is bullshit," he said. "I'm…I'm going. I'll see you back up at the castle."

And he walked up to Hagrid's cabin, leaving Ron alone with his very confused thoughts.

*

It was clear to Hermione by the next evening that Ron was mad at her. Why, she didn't know, and made no effort to find out. Ron just got in moods sometimes, and she usually caught the full blast of his disapproval on these occasions. But this time, it wasn't just her copping the worst of Ron's bad mood- it was Harry too. Ron ignored both herself and Harry during classes all day, instead directing conversation to Parvati. In the common room he didn't take his usual seat at their table- instead he sat in an armchair by the fire with Parvati, shotting glares at Hermione and Harry across the common room from time to time. Unfortunately, to Ron's consternation, Parvati would often get up and stroll around the common room over to Harry, to have a bit of a chat with him. Hermione wondered at the nature of Ron's hostility- surely he and Harry weren't fighting again? And she certainly hadn't done anything to make him mad. This was one bad mood Hermione just couldn't fathom.

But, whatever the matter was, it was Ron's business, and Hermione certainly wasn't about to go crawling to him, asking what the matter was. Instead, she asked Harry.

"Are you two angry with each other?" she asked, as Harry was flicking through _A History of Magic_.

Harry looked up. "What?" he said, frowning, "Angry with who?"

"You and Ron," Hermione said, nodding to where Ron was glaring into the fire. "Did you have another fight?"

Harry scratched his head and looked back down at his book before answering. "Nope. I don't know. He's just mad. It's not my problem."

But Hermione was too clever to fall for that. Something in Harry's answer was unconvincing- perhaps it was the way he didn't meet her eye. "Well he's not exactly talking to me, either, you know."

Harry snorted. "What else is new? He doesn't talk to anyone any more. Except Parvati."

Hermione sat back in her chair and regarded Harry for a moment. He raised his eyebrows at her and then returned to his book.

"Why are you lying to me?" she said finally. 

"I'm _not_," Harry muttered.

"There you go again. Tell me what's wrong."

"_Nothing's_ wrong."

"Maybe I can help. I can go and talk to him."

"I told you nothing's wrong!"

"I'm only trying to be useful-"

"_Hermione_!" Harry said in exasperation. Hermione smiled and returned to her homework, while Harry ran a hand through his already-on-end hair in irritation. "What's the matter with you, anyway? You've hardly started on that Transfigs essay." 

"Well, I find it a bit hard to concentrate when someone's glaring at me across the room," Hermione replied, looking up at Ron again just in time to catch him sending her a wrathful glare. Harry looked at Ron too. Ron rolled his eyes at the two of them and pointedly turned his attention back to Parvati.

"What's he trying to prove?" Harry muttered, and the tone of his voice was a mixture of disdain and downright anger. "Honestly, sometimes he's so…"

Hermione got to her feet, shutting her book with a snap. Harry looked up at her. "What're you doing?"

"I'm going to talk to him," Hermione said decidedly. "I can't concentrate with him acting like such a prat, and I do need to get some homework done."

Harry stared at her for a moment and then shrugged, "Suit yourself." He closed his book and replaced his quill to its holder.

"What are _you_ doing?" she asked as she got up out of her seat.

"I'm going to watch," said Harry raising his eyebrows at her. "Go on, then."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and strode determinedly over to where Ron and Parvati were sitting. Parvati raised her eyebrows as Hermione approached. "What do _you_ want?" she said snobbily.

Hermione ignored her and directed her address at Ron. "I need to talk to you."

Parvati smirked. "Well, _he_ doesn't want to talk to _you_, so-"

But Ron, as if he hadn't even heard Parvati, said, "That's good, because I need to talk to you."

Parvati opened her mouth in pure shock, which quickly tuned to anger. She set her mouth in a hard, unattractive line. "I'm going for a walk," she said frostily to Ron, and stalked off, grabbing Lavender and pulling her out of the portrait hole on her way.

Ron didn't appear to notice. He was focusing on Hermione, and he looked pissed off about something. "What's your problem, anyway?" he said before Hermione could get a word in.

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then shot an angry response. "I could ask _you_ the same thing! What do you mean, _my_ problem?"

"If you've got a problem with me dating Parvati, why don't you tell me instead of bitching about it behind my back?" Ron demanded. 

Hermione blinked in surprise. "I…" she said, and found herself lost for words. "I…what on _earth_ are you talking about?"

"Harry told me all about it," Ron snapped. Hermione whirled around to look at Harry, who had hidden his face behind a book, which he was holding upside down. Hermione turned back to Ron's angry face, her mouth still open in surprise.

"Well?" he said, in a sort of dangerously quiet voice. "Are you going to deny it?"

"What?" was all Hermione managed to say.

"You've been talking about me behind my back!" Ron said loudly, to the interest of a few nearby Gryffindors. "It's no skin off _my_ nose if you want to fight with Parvati- well, actually, it is- but you could at least come to me and talk about it instead of complaining to Harry!"

"Oh, sure, and have you kick up a fuss just because you don't happen to agree with my opinion!" Hermione snapped, finding her voice at last.

"And what _is_ your opinion, Hermione?" Ron demanded, getting to his feet. "Why do you care so much about who I date?"

"As a matter of fact, I _don't-_" Hermione started to say furiously, but Ron cut off her sentence.

"Why is it any of _your_ business?" he shouted, now red in the face. "If I wanted your opinion, I'd _ask_ for it! Parvati and I get along just fine! I can't help it if you don't like her!"

"Well, I-"

"Just because you want to pick a fight with my girlfriend doesn't mean you have the right to go around judging someone you hardly know! It's none of your business, or Harry's business for that matter, _what_ we do or _what _our relationship's like!" While he took a breath, Hermione managed to get a word in- a furious word.

"You prat!" she snapped, 'I suppose this is the thanks I get for helping you out so much! And I may hardly know her, but what's to say you know her that well either? You're just too shallow to realise that she's going to hurt your feelings because that's the type of self centred person she is, and when you've found that out you're-"

"_Stop insulting her!_" Ron roared furiously. "For the last time, i_t's none of your business!_ Just _leave us alone_, Hermione, because we can do without your stupid opinion! So just- just _shut up_, okay? You hardly know her, you seem to have dramatically misjudged _me_, and the last thing I'll _ever_ do is come crying to you when I'm in trouble! You're not and never have been a good friend to me so just _leave-me-alone_."

He drew back, breathing in hard. It took a while for the ringing in Hermione's ears to stop and for her to realise that the common room had gone silent. Everyone was staring at the two of them, red-faced, breathing hard. But this time she couldn't even think of the Hogwarts rumour mill- she felt like she'd been slapped in the face. 

She took in a long shaky breath through her nose. Ron seemed to draw back further, as through readying himself for her response.

But for once, she didn't have one.

"Fine," she said shakily. "That's fine, Ron."

And she turned on her heel and walked up to the dorms, feeling strangely light headed. There was a buzzing in her ears that she took a few moments to identify as whispers running through the common room. She ignored Harry's stunned expression, ignored the perplexed stares from the Weasley twins, ignored the terrified, anxious look on Ginny's face- she ignored them all, walked right past them with her head held high, up to her room.


	5. Five

And so they weren't speaking. Most people were quite used to this, but it was different this time. There was chilliness to their hostility that was nothing to do with the winter months creeping closer. This time they weren't just trying to prove a point by bickering- there was some conviction behind the hard-eyed stares, the never-ending silence. 

Harry felt guilty. That much was obvious in the way he actually approached the subject with Ron rather than ignoring the fact that they were fighting- which he usually did.

"Look, Ron…" Harry said uncomfortably one afternoon as they walked down to Hagrid's cabin together- they had both been invited to afternoon tea at the half-giant's house- "Ron," he said again. "I'm…not sure you should…get so…angry, I mean…she might not have meant it. It was late, and we were just talking while we did our homework, and she was angry about something. She might not have meant it," he repeated, a bit desperately. "Can't you go and…talk to her about it, or something? I didn't mean to cause a fight…I wasn't…I just…"

"Harry," said Ron sharply through Harry's stuttering, "It's nothing to worry about. And none of your business, may I add." Ron thought he saw something hurtful flicker in his friend's eyes. "All right," he amended, "Harry- it _is _something to worry about. It's worrying that you're worrying about something that really isn't an issue."

"It _is_ an issue though," Harry persisted. "And it's all my fault. I should never have-"

"I'm not mad at _you_, if that's what you're worried about," Ron reassured him. 

"No, I just feel bad that I brought up all this bad stuff between you and Hermione, and-"

"Hi Hagrid!" Ron said loudly, as they approached the cabin, signalling an end to the conversation. 

But Harry was right- it _was_ an issue. Ron felt bad- terrible- in fact about some of the things he'd said to her. But surely that wasn't right. She was in the wrong here. Not him. _It's not my fault for once,_ he had to remind himself several times, as Hermione was forced to work with Neville during class. 

And his grades began to drop again. Without Hermione to give him a hand with homework, and Harry sitting with her in the evenings, there was nothing to distract him from Parvati- nothing to stop him wandering off with her at night, for walks around the lake. Which were actually…becoming a tad boring. Quite boring. Incredibly boring. In fact, he began to dread the evenings, when Parvati would come up and slide her arms around his neck and persuade him to leave the warm common room to walk around that cold lake while listening to her _talk_. And she did talk. But not just about herself- about Harry. Lots of questions about Harry. Now that Ron thought about it- she'd always brought up Harry a lot in their conversations. What was his favourite colour? What was his favourite food? Did he like winter or summer? What was his cousin like? Just things like that. And Ron didn't even know the answer to most of her questions- he would have liked Harry whether his favourite colour was red or pink. It didn't really matter that much, did it?

And a new topic of conversation seemed to crop up now and again- _Hermione_. Parvati despised her, and Ron did too. Okay, not despised- hated her at least. Disliked her. Well, not quite that far. 

But he was very angry with her. 

"I don't think Harry should be hanging around with her so much, do _you_?" Parvati said nastily as they walked around the lake one night, "she'll turn him into a square- just like _her_."

"Yeah," Ron agreed half-heartedly. He was freezing cold- they'd been out at the lake for at leats an hour and he desperately wanted to go back inside. Thankfully they'd already circled the lake three times, so their walk seemed to be drawing to an end. 

"I mean, what does he see in her anyway?" Parvati demanded steering him up towards the steps of the entrance hall. "She's so _boring_ and _mousey_."

__

Mousey? What did that mean?

"Sure, yeah," Ron said again. 

"I don't even know why he _talks_ to her. It must be out of pity."

"Must be."

"Because she's so boring, isn't she? You would know, having her hanging around for so many years. She's boring, isn't she?"

"Yeah." _Boring? Hermione?_ Firey, interesting, opinionated, bossy, moody…boring? Hah.

"She's not coming to your brother Barry's wedding is she?"

"Bill."

"What?"

"My brother," said Ron, looking at her. "His name is Bill."

"Oh, right. Whatever. Bill's wedding, then."

"I don't know," Ron said, sighing as they reached the warmth of the entrance hall, lit by a few flaming torches in brackets on the walls. Hermione had been invited not just as Ron's guest, but as his mother's. He knew that Mrs Weasley was very fond of Hermione and if she didn't turn up with them on the Hogwarts express, then she would ask why and then get angry with him for fighting with her and then his father would be brought into and then Percy would lecture him and the twins would tease and Bill would give him that _look_. The _I-thought-you-were-a-better-person-than-that-Ron _look that always served to make Ron's stomach tighten. Bill was so much of a better _person_ than he, in so many ways. He always made Ron feel about two inches tall. _I just want him to be proud of me_ Ron thought to himself as Parvati nattered away in his ear as they walked up the many corridors and stair leading to the common room. _Is that so much to ask?_

How could Dumbledore say that he and Bill were alike, anyway? His headmaster's comment had been puzzling him ever since their meeting, and Ron had yet to figure it out.

__

I wish I had Hermione to help me on this one, he thought ruefully before he could stop himself. Then immediately dismissed it. _wait a moment, what am I saying? I don't NEED her help. _

"Armadillo," he said, shaking his head as they reached the portrait hole. The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and Parvati extricated her arm from Ron's as she climbed through, still talking. It was fairly late and there weren't very many people left in the common room- a few sleepy first years struggling to finish off homework, a seventh year sitting by the fire, lost in thought, and two third year girls tying a letter to an owl's leg by the window- and of course, Harry and Hermione in their usual corner. 

Ron's eyes instinctively fell on Hermione as he waked into the warm, cheery room- but there was nothing warm about the glare Hermione shot him. 

"Hi, Harry!" Parvati called out cheerfully. Harry looked up from whatever he as doing and gave Parvati a smile, then immediately turned back to his work. Parvati, not to be deterred, went right over, sat on the arm of Harry's chair, and started talking to him, oblivious to the frosty glare Hermione was shooting her or the pained expression that appeared on Harry's face. Hermione looked over her shoulder at Ron again, those usually warm brown eyes devoid of any affection or friendliness they usually held. Ron stifled a sigh and plonked himself down in an armchair by the fire. He suddenly found himself wishing for a bit of _normality-_ where Hermione was talking to him and Harry was still his best friend. But it was normal for he and Hermione to be fighting, wasn't it? That was the big joke about he and Hermione Granger. "You only fight with the people you most care about," people had often cooed at him. And he would always snap back, "yeah, well, that's a load of bull. I don't give a stuff about _her_."

But that was a load of bull too. 

He looked over at Hermione again, who gave him one last icy look, glared pointedly at Parvati, and stalked off up the stairs. Ron dropped his head into his hands and groaned aloud. _What a mess_, he thought, _What a horrible, rotten mess._

*

Hermione couldn't deny the chilly, spiteful sort of satisfaction she got from seeing Ron squirm a bit. He'd hurt her feelings- really hurt them, and now, he deserved to feel some sort of pain as well. 

__

I won't talk to him at all until he apologises, she thought stubbornly, climbing the staircase to the girls' dorms. But she wished it could have been some other way. 

She reached the girls dorms, threw her books down on her bed, and went into the adjoining bathroom to wash the ink stains off her hands, still thinking about Ron. 

She knew that her fight with Ron had driven a bit of a wedge between him and Harry, as Harry felt guilty- as though it were somehow _his_ fault that Ron had told her in front of the whole common room that she was a bad friend. And she couldn't deny that she was angry with Harry for telling Ron what she'd said about him and Parvati. _Though you shouldn't have said it in the first place_, her reasonable voice said, as she ran hot water over hands and scrubbed hard at them with a brush. _You should have at least pretended to be happy for him_.

__

Why should I be dishonest? challenged the more volatile side of her brain. _I just wanted to let him know he had a problem!_

Hermione slowly turned off the water, looking at her face in the spotted bathroom mirror. 

"_I'm_ the one with the problem here," she said aloud, softly. Without warning, tears pricked the back of her eyes as she thought of the very brief, hurt look that was hiding in Ron's eyes when she glared at him. Did he really care? Sometimes, it seemed like Ron was the only person who cared about her in the world. Harry was so caught up in his own problems- with good reason- and she'd never made any really close girl friends. Except maybe Ginny. But she could never tell Ginny all her thoughts, especially since a lot of them lately were devoted to Ginny's brother. 

Just as tears dangerously threatened to spill out over her eyes, she heard voices outside the door. Quickly, she flew into a stall and locked the door behind her. She couldn't let anyone know she'd been crying. 

As the bathroom door swung open Hermione sat down on the toilet seat and drew her knees up to her chin. The voices were easily identifiable as Parvati and Lavender. 

"…but I suppose he's not that bad," Parvati was saying, "although those freckles- ugh!"

"Have you ever seen his elder brother, though?" Lavender giggled, "Not the twins- the eldest one, Bob, or Bill, or something…"

"Barry," said Parvati. "What about him?"

"Well, I saw him last year when he and Ron's mum came to watch Harry in he third task of the tournament. And he was ever so dishy! I mean, even with red hair and loads of freckles."

"Really?" Parvati said, sounding mildly impressed, "Did you go up and introduce yourself?"

"Of _course_ not!" Lavender squealed, "I could never do that!"

"Lavenderrrr…" Parvati sighed exasperatedly. "You're never going to get a boyfriend if you don't start introducing yourself to people that you _like_."

"I know, I know! I wish I were as brave as you! I mean, I can't believe you just went right up and _asked_ Ron out!"

"But then again, I don't really like him." Parvati said. Her voice sounded slightly defected, as though she were applying lip gloss or something in the mirror. Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the seat, sure she'd heard wrong.

"You're so _smart_ Pav," Lavender said, sounding envious and admiring at the same time, "I mean, I _never _would have thought of doing something like this to snag a boy."

"It was pretty smart," Parvati agreed, "I didn't think it would work so well. But since I started going out with Ron, I really think Harry's noticed me a lot more! It's all going perfectly! And Ron's told me practically everything about Harry."

"Oooh!" Lavender squealed, "this is so great! It's like you're all set to go out with him!"

"I know!" Parvati said triumphantly, "all I've got to do is dump Ron, go to Harry looking sad about it, and then the rest is up to fate!"

"Do you think this is what professor Trelawney meant when she said that there would be romance with a famous young man for you in the future?"

"I see nothing wring with giving fate a hand," Parvati giggled. "I mean, sure, I had to ask Ron Weasley out to get Harry to notice me. But imagine what it will be like when I'm Harry Potter's girlfriend!" then both of them let out excited squeals, and ran out of the bathroom, giggling.

She could hear their giggles fading into the distance as they ran back down the stairs to the common room. 

Hermione had been holding her breath, without realising. She exhaled stale air and got unsteadily to her feet. She wasn't sure if she'd just heard what she thought she hard. It was like some sort of scene from that muggle soap opera that her mother liked so much- _Passions_, or something equally distasteful. If she had heard right- if she wasn't mistaking the implications behind the conversation she'd just heard- then Parvati asking Ron out had all been a scam. A scam to get Harry to notice her! Parvati didn't really have any feelings for Ron at all, she was just using him to get to Harry!

Hermione felt sick. This wasn't the sort of thing she wanted her best friend to be subjected to. And even as she tried not to think about it, it all made sense. Things she'd subconsciously registered surfaced and all fit together, like some sort of terrible melodramatic puzzle. Whenever Parvati was around Harry, she'd flirt- and completely ignore Ron. She'd overheard Ron say once to Harry that Parvati was always asking after him. In fact, Parvati's entire proposal had come completely out the blue, unfoundedly and without preamble. _Why_ hadn't she seen this before?

Ron was about to get his heart broken by a girl he believed he liked, and she was then going to move on his best friend. He was going to get hurt by Parvati, in the very worst kind of way.

And this meant, of course, that Hermione had been right all along. 

*

"Ron…Ron! Wake up!"

"Hnnn?" Someone was shaking Ron's shoulder, hissing in his ear. "Whatsamatter?"

"Ron! Wake up! I need to talk to you!"

"What?" Ron didn't quite know what was going on. He turned over to see who was forcing him awake, and found himself looking right into Hermione's deep brown eyes. "What?" he said again, a bit louder. He sat up quickly in his surprise. "What's going on? Hermione!"

"Shhhh!" she hissed. She was kneeling by her bed in her dressing gown and pyjamas, an anxious expression on her face. 

"You're not supposed to be in here," Ron whispered blankly. He blinked even harder. "What _are_ you doing in here?"

"I need to talk to you," she repeated in a whisper. 

"At one am?" Ron cried, catching sight of his wristwatch, which Hermione had enchanted long ago to make the hands glow in the dark. 

"Shhhh! It's important."

"Jesus Christ, it can't be _that_ important, seeing as we aren't speaking," Ron said pointedly, feeling utterly bewildered.

A pained expression passed across her face. "Ron, please, not _now_…" 

"Well, go on then, what _could_ be so important?"

"All right. I'll tell you. But don't get angry and start jumping to conclusions." She took a deep breath, "It's about you and Parvati."

Ron felt a surge of irritation, and not just because he'd been rudely awoken to find himself in a totally bizarre situation. "I think you've talked enough about Parvati, don't you-" he started angrily, but she cut him off.

"See, I knew, it, I knew you wouldn't listen to me!"

Ron fought to control his temper for a good five seconds. "Okay," he said finally, "What about me and Parvati?"

"Well…" Hermione suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I happened to…overhear…a conversation between Parvati and Lavender."

'So?"

"About you."

"So?"

"Try to keep your voice down!" she hissed. Seamus Finnigan, two beds over from Ron, grunted in his sleep and turned over. Ron, having seen Seamus fly into a rage after being rudely awoken once before and having no wish to see it again, lowered his voice. He leaned closer to Hermione so that he could hear. "Go on, then."

"Okay…" Hermione said looking more uncomfortable and anxious than ever, "okay." She stood up, walking around shaking out her arms and hands for a while, took a few deep breaths, then came and knelt by Ron's bed again. "Okay, um…" she cleared her throat. "This is a bit difficult Ron, but…but it's the truth, all right? I'm telling the truth." She blew out air and then took another deep breath. "Okay. All right. Listen, Ron…" She turned and looked him right in the eyes. "Parvati…doesn't like you. At all."

The words hit hard before Ron had any time to collect himself. "'What?"

"She asked you out as a way to get Harry to notice her. She's planning to dump you and then go after Harry. She thinks that going out with you has made her seem more attractive to her. I'm sorry," she put in quickly. "I'm really sorry, Ron. The entire relationship has been a farce. A lie. She's using you. I'm so sorry."

She said it so quickly, yet Ron felt like someone was shoving a hot poker through his stomach. There was a momentary flash of pain, and a doubt that embedded itself in his mind, before the anger surged up.

Hermione was looking at him anxiously, wringing her hands. "Ron?" she whispered. "Say something. Are you angry? What are you-"

"I can't believe you," Ron said, and his voice was shaking. "I can't…I don't know how on earth you got the nerve to do this to me, but…you're just unbelievable, Hermione."

"What? Ron, I'm telling the truth-"

"NO YOU'RE NOT!" he roared, and Hermione jumped back. Seamus gave a yelp and there was a thump as Dean Thomas fell out of his bed.

"What's going on?" came a sleepy voice from Neville's bed. Ron's heart was thumping like a hammer against his ribs. "How DARE you?" he shouted. "How BLOODY DARE YOU?"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, putting a hand to her heart, "Don't-"

"HOW CAN YOU COME INTO MY ROOM, LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME A LIE LIKE THAT?!" He was screaming now, the words ripped up his throat, renting the silence that had been settled over Gryffindor tower. 

"What the hell is going on?" Seamus yelled from his bed. 

"Ron? Is that you?" Neville said. "What's the matter? Ron!"

"Oh my god…you picked a really great time to pick a fight, Hermione," Dean Thomas snapped at them, surveying the scene from the floor where he was still lying, rubbing his elbow. 

"I'm not lying!" Hermione cried angrily. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Maybe because this is the LAST STRAW!" Ron roared. "I'm SO SICK OF YOU BAD-MOUTHING PARVATI! Why don't you just leave me AND her the HELL ALONE?" he drew back a bit, and he was breathing hard. "This is low. This is so low, Hermione. I didn't think even you could go so far. You're so…Just…get the hell away from me. I can't even look at you anymore."

Hermione was staring at him, eyes and mouth both wide open in shock. 

Ron suddenly felt a hand squeezing his shoulder and he looked to see who it was- Harry, tousle-haired and rubbing his eyes. Ron suddenly felt terribly awful about the fuss he had just kicked up. Harry had enough on his plate without being woken up in the middle of the night to find his two best friends arguing.

"Harry…" Ron said hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up, I just…"

Harry nodded. "Shhh," he said softly. He walked up to Hermione and said something very quietly in her ear. There were tears in her eyes.

"I'm telling the truth" she whispered tearfully to Harry. "I just wanted to help."

"It's all right," Harry said gently. "You'd better go now, herm. It's all right."

"But Ron-" Hermione said turning back to him. Ron looked away. He really _couldn't_ look at her, knowing that she had gone so low as to lie to him to try and break him and Parvati up. It was sleazy and tacky- and she'd brought Harry into it this time. It was so unlike her. 

Why had she done it?

"Ron's fine," Harry said softly, putting his arm around her and giving her a gentle push towards the door. "Everything's okay." He gave her a quick squeeze and then closed the door behind her. Then he turned back to Ron. The look in his eyes was _that_ look- that look that Bill gave him.

Ron stared right back. It wasn't him that was in the wrong, this time. Definitely not. He turned round to look at the rest of the dorm- Dean, lying on the ground; Neville, struggling to extricate himself from the tangle of blankets that surrounded him as he tried to stand up; Seamus, sitting up in bed holding his pillow like a teddy bear. They all had the same expression of shock on their face.

Seamus finally broke the silence.

"Jasus!" he exclaimed. "Can't you two just ever give it a rest?"


	6. Six

Harry tried to think of a time when he had seen his two friends as angry with each other, but no occasion sprang immediately to mind. That incident in third year came close, though- when Ron believed that Hermione's cat Crookshanks had eaten his pet rat, but that had turned out all right in the end.

It didn't look as though everything would turn out all right this time. 

Hermione had tearfully explained the situation to him, and, although it was both ludicrous and farcical, he couldn't find a reason why Hermione would make up a story like that. Unless Ron was right and she really _was_ trying to break him and Parvati up. But if that was the case, what possible motive could she have? Hermione didn't fancy Ron or anything. Did she?

Harry sighed as he walked through the doors of the library, where Hermione had just told him all about Parvati's "plan". He knew in his heart of hearts that Hermione would never lie to him and Ron- but the story was so far fetched. Like something out of that stupid show Aunt Petunia liked to watch- _Passions_, or whatever it was called. But she wouldn't make it up. She wouldn't lie just for her own selfish reasons.

But then again, Hermione hadn't acted particularly confident of her innocence either. It had been three days since Ron had gone off at Hermione in the dorm- Seamus was _still_ mad at them- and Harry had never seen either of his friends act quite like this. 

Ron was angry. Not just angry but really astoundingly _angry_. This time, he was angry with her to the point that it almost consumed him. It seemed like all he felt was anger and all he could think about was how much he hated Hermione.

And Hermione was hiding. She looked almost frightened of Ron. And if, Harry reasoned, she was telling the truth, wouldn't she go and stand up to him? He asked as much of her in their conversation in the library.

"He never believes me, Harry," she'd whispered, bending her head and letting a curtain of curls fall across her face. "I can't try and convince him any more. That night in the dorm…I've never seen him so angry."

"Me neither," Harry had agreed, "But he's not going to kill you or anything. Why're you hiding if your story is true?"

She'd looked at him. "You don't believe me."

"Well…you've got to admit, it's like something from a soap opera."

"I knew you'd side with him."

"Don't be like that!" Harry had said defensively, as she'd gotten to her feet and prepared to move away from him, "I'm just trying to figure out all the facts."

"Why would I make it up?" she'd demanded. "What kind of low-life person do you think I am?" 

"You're not a low-life."

"Then stop treating me like one!" she'd snapped. She'd immediately been shushed by Madame Pince. "Look, leave me alone, Harry- I've got work to do." And their conversation had ended.

As Harry wandered through a tapestry he happened to glance out the window. The sky was dark and grey and stormy, appropriately enough- it seemed like everyone was in a dark mood these days. Even Sirius had gotten grumpy when Harry had morosely recounted Ron and Hermione's argument. "Why are _you _worrying about it?" he'd said with a deep frown. "This is no time to be getting distracted. I want you focusing on your schoolwork, Harry. Your O.W.L.s are at the end of the year, and-"

"All right, all right!" Harry had snapped. "_Sorry_ for being concerned about my best friends!"

"Well _sorry_ for being concerned about _you_!" Sirius had shot back. "I should think by now you'd be bloody well used to them arguing!"

"And how would you know what it's like, seeing as you've only known them for what, all of one year?!"

Harry wished he hadn't said that now. Sirius had retreated from the argument, and assumed _that_ expression, the _I'm-so-tired-of-living-and-you're-making-it-harder_ expression. Sirius was right, there were bigger things to focus on right now- but Ron and Hermione were still his best friends. When they were sad, so was he. He couldn't just retreat from their problems just because Voldemort was after him. It was just not what good friends did. 

It was a cold day, so the common room was fairly crowded with Gryffindor students seeking refuge from the drafty castle in the cosy tower. Ron and Parvati were sitting near the fire. Ron looked sullen but Parvati was chattering away in his ear anyhow. Harry was tempted to turn around and wait until Parvati had left. Sure, it was good that she still didn't hate him after the Yule Ball incident last year, but he found her friendliness much worse than her silence. At least with her ignoring him he didn't have to listen to her chattering on, "oh Harry you did so well in Quidditch today," "Oh Harry, you're so smart, I just don't get this essay question," "Oh Harry, do you think maybe you could carry my books for me? They're ever so heavy." Harry longed to turn around and say, "Oh Parvati- _sod off!_"

Fighting a groan, Harry walked over to them and stood by Ron's chair. Ron looked up at him. "Oh, hi. Where've you been?"

"In the library." Harry said. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Go right ahead."

"No I mean…alone," Harry said pointedly, looking at Parvati. Her beaming smile was replaced with a frown.

"Fine," she said haughtily, and stalked off to join Lavender by the window.

"So?" Ron said, 'What's the matter? You look upset…"

"I am, a bit." Harry admitted. "I've been talking to Hermione."

"Oh," said Ron, and his already grumpy expression darkened. "I don't care."

Harry shook his head. "Well maybe you should start. I don't know Ron," he sighed. "I don't think she's telling the truth, but I don't think she's lying, either."

"Well it can only be one or the other," growled Ron, his eyes blazing. "You believe that Parvati's trying to use me to get to you? Thanks a lot! I didn't think you could be so up yourself!"

"Would you shut up!" Harry snapped back, "I just don't think you should condemn her so easily, that's all! But clearly you don't want to listen to me _or_ her!"

"You're right, I don't," Ron said. "And clearly you know even less about me than Hermione does. So much for being my friend."

For a moment Harry felt like reaching out and slapping Ron on the side of the head. But he was glaring into the fire, not even looking at Harry while he spoke. 

"I can't be bothered fighting with you," Harry muttered, standing up. "I've got enough to worry about, all right? I'll come and talk to you when you're not being so pig-headed."

"Suits me," Ron called after Harry as he stormed up the stairs to the boys' dorm.

"Ridiculous," Harry muttered to himself, slamming the door behind him, "They're both ridiculous. This whole situation is just so bloody ridiculous!" He threw himself down onto his bed.

As much as he didn't want to admit to Ron, he did believe some parts of Hermione's story. The part about Parvati not liking Ron at all was actually very feasible. When he was with the two of them, Parvati tended to ignore Ron completely and focus all her attention on…

"Me." Harry said into his pillow. Why did _he_ have to be brought into this? What was Hermione trying to do, making that up? Why would any girl go to so much trouble just for him? It didn't make _sense_.

He pummelled his fists into his pillow, wishing that Parvati had never asked Ron out in the first place. All she'd done was make trouble between him and his friends. Why couldn't anyone ever just leave him and Ron and Hermione _alone_?

"RRRRGH!" he yelled into his pillow in frustration. And that was when he felt someone put their hand on his back. He sat up at once to come face to face with Parvati Patil.

"What are you doing in here?" he yelped.

"Are you all right?" Parvati said, ignoring his question. "You look upset, you poor thing."

"What are you _doing_ in here?' Harry repeated.

She smiled at him winningly. "I saw you come up here looking upset, I just wanted to make it better. That's what friends are for, right?" She moved a few inches closer so that her leg was touching his. Harry stood up immediately.

"Yes, well- we're not friends," he said coldly. Anything to get her out of the dorm. Far from being deterred by this, Parvati beamed.

"Oh, I'm so glad you feel the same way I do!" she cried, standing up beside him and slipping her arms around his waist. 

"What are you talking about?" Harry said, removing her hands and stepping backward.

"You feel it too," she said rapturously, not to be put off, and coming closer to him. "The attraction. We're more than just friends, aren't we?"

Harry backed away until his back was to the wall, feeling quite alarmed. "S-stop it," he said, his voice breaking, "What are you talking about?"

"I tried to hide it too!" she cried, 'I didn't want to hurt poor Ron's feelings- but it's too big to be silenced Harry. Just let your feelings out."

"Go away," Harry said loudly.

"Can't you see you can't fight destiny?" Parvati said, slipping her arms around his neck. Harry slid along the wall, eyes wide.

"This isn't destiny, it's just very disturbing!" he snapped. "Stop it! Get out of here!"

"Oh, Harry-" she cried, moving her face close to his.

"Parvati!" Harry cried. "Get away from me!"

But there was no putting her off. To his absolute disgust, she grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him- right on the mouth. He struggled but to no avail- she wasn't letting go.

"Get the hell off me!" he tried to yell- but it came out more like, "Meh fee pherr moff mee!"

And that was when the dorm door burst open. With a last desperate shove, Harry managed to push her away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?' he gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. And then he spotted exactly who had opened the dorm door- Ron. He stood framed in the doorway for a second, his eyes wide pools of shock- then he turned on his heel and ran. 

"Ron!" Harry gasped, sprinting after him. Down the stairs, through the common room- "Ron, wait!" He never realised how fast Ron could sprint with those long legs. Ron vaulted through the portrait hole, and Harry stumbled after him, chasing him down the corridor, gasping for breath. Ron skidded around a corner, running straight into Hermione.

"Ron!" she gasped, as he sent her pile of books crashing to the floor. 'What are you-?"

Ron didn't stop to apologise or explain, just kept on running.

"Harry?" Hermione gasped as Harry whizzed past behind him. Harry didn't have the time or breath to explain what was going on- he just wanted to catch up to Ron, to tell him what happened, to fix everything- (behind him he could hear Hermione start to run after him with a cry of "Wait!"). And Ron continued running all the way downstairs, and through the great hall, leaping down the steps of the entrance hall and outside into the grey cloudy day. 

"Ron," Harry choked, finally catching up to him as Ron slowed down, "It wasn't what you think- I swear it wasn't-"

And without warning, Ron spun around, fists tightly clenched, and hit Harry on the side of the face.

Harry was quite used to being hit- but not by his best friend. Caught by surprise, he stumbled backward- right onto Hermione, who had just caught up with them, gasping. With a cry of surprise, she grabbed Harry as he tumbled into her, and just managed to stay upright, holding Harry under the arms. "What on _earth_-!" she managed to gasp.

A good fifteen-second silence passed between the three of them, as all three stared at each other, panting. Harry was holding the side of his face. It had only been a light punch, but he felt it imprinted on his cheek like ice. Ron finally broke the terrible silence. "You were right," he said breathlessly, looking at Hermione. "You were right all along. I should have known. You're always right." 

And then he ran again, away from them, towards the far side of the lake. This time, Harry didn't run after him. 

*

Hermione woke up the next morning with weak sunlight pouring through her bedroom window and a terrible sinking feeling in her heart. It took a moment for her brain to clear and pinpoint the problem, but as soon as she remembered, she wished she hadn't. The previous days events swam back to her- Ron and Harry chasing each other through the corridors, she running after them down to the lake, and then seeing Ron spin around and hit Harry. Right in the face.

Squinting, she sat up and looked out her window. The grounds were covered in the first snow of the season. Everything was sparkling and crisply white and wintry. Down below, Hagrid was striding through the snow, pushing a path up to the Great Hall. Hermione decided to skip breakfast and take a long brisk walk in the grounds. It would do her good, she decided, to air out her brain and have a really long think.

She got dressed slowly, remembering her conversation with Harry yesterday as he explained to her what happened between him and Parvati.

"I tried to get her to go away," he'd said simply, again and again, and Hermione believed him. Parvati's plan had backfired, was all- Harry despised her. She felt a rush of anger. Parvati had caused all this trouble- she'd hurt Ron's feelings, and Harry's feelings, and wrecked everything. 

And yet, somehow, she still heard a satisfied little voice at the back of her brain. _"Of course you were right all along. Ron should have listened to you. I told you you're jealous." _

Jealous? Hah! Did it even matter how she felt any more? What was important was the utter chaos that their friendships had been thrown into. 

But it was all right. All she had to do was think laterally.  
_So what's the problem?_  
Ron hit Harry because Parvati threw herself at Harry.  
_And how does that affect you?_  
They're my friends and I can't stand seeing them unhappy.  
_So what can you do about it?_  
Talk to Ron. But I don't want to.  
_And why is that?_  
I don't know what to say to him.   
_And why is that?_  
Because there is only one thing to talk about and that's what happened yesterday, but I don't know what to say to make it all better.  
_And why do you _have_ to make it all better?_  
Because that's what friends are for.  
_And why else?_  
Because…I don't want to see him get hurt.  
_And why is that?_   
Because I care so much about him.  
_And why should that create any problems at all?_ _You care about him. That should be all you need to know. You've got to let him know how you feel, so he'll know that you'll be there._

With an impatient sigh, Hermione banged a brush through the ends of her hair. She was sick of thinking laterally- sick of thinking period. All it did for her was come up with answers she really didn't like. Maybe she shouldn't go for a walk, if thinking was only going to confuse her further. Maybe, she should just find Ginny and let _her_ talk- which she could do without abandon. And it had been quite a while since she and Ginny had had a natter. Maybe she could just wander down to the Great Hall and sit herself down at the Gryffindor table and laugh herself stupid at whatever Fred and George were doing, or watch Seamus and Dean get into a debate about football, or maybe even have it out with Parvati Patil once and for all, for ruining everything and breaking Ron's heart. Yes, that's what she _should_ do, bypass her walk and…

But then, she caught a gimpse of a tall, red-haired figure trudging through the snow outside through the window, and changed her mind.


	7. Seven

Although Ron had never really understood the healing concept of Taking A Walk, he felt compelled to do so that morning. Perhaps it was because, when he'd woken up, he could hear Harry breathing from the next bed over and immediately felt sickeningly, astoundingly ashamed; or perhaps it was when he went down to the common room to get out of the dorm Fred and George were already there and had immediately accosted him with Dutch rubs and painful tickling, as they usually did upon sight of him; or perhaps it was when he went down to the Great Hall to escape the common room Dumbledore had been there, and had blessed him with a benign smile, which was exactly what Ron felt he didn't deserve. No one who hit their best friend deserved that smile of Dumbledore's, and Ron felt further fiery shame in his stomach when he thought of what Dumbledore would say when he found out that he, Ron, had punched Harry in the face, for something that really wasn't his fault. It was Parvati's fault. No, not even her fault- it was his own stupid fault. He should have known. He should have seen it. He should have listened to Hermione. 

So Ron needed to escape the interior of the castle and find some solace in the grounds, thinking he would even walk to Hogsmeade if he had to- if that was what it would take to banish the terrible guilt inside of him. 

There wasn't even room inside of him to feel the desolateness that usually follows rejection. He knew somewhere that he _had_ been rejected by Parvati- not only that, rejected _for_ his best friend. But he felt somehow, that he deserved it. Little things that he'd said over the past weeks kept jumping out at him sharply, as painful as though someone was knifing him through the stomach- and with every memory the knife turned around, digging further and further into him.

__

"You believe that Parvati's trying to use me to get to you? Thanks a lot! I didn't think you could be so up yourself!" 

"Clearly you know even less about me than Hermione does. So much for being my friend." 

__

"This is low. This is so low, Hermione. I didn't think even you could go so far. You're so…Just…get the hell away from me. I can't even look at you anymore." 

"If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it! Parvati and I get along just fine! I can't help it if you don't like her!"

"HOW CAN YOU COME INTO MY ROOM, LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME A LIE LIKE THAT?!"

"Just shut up, okay? You hardly know her, you seem to have dramatically misjudged me, and the last thing I'll ever do is come crying to you when I'm in trouble!"

"You're not and never have been a good friend to me so just leave-me-alone'

Shame, shame, shame. How would he ever be able to look Hermione in the eyes again knowing he had said what he had said and insulted her again and again and again? It was all he could do not to be sick as he thought of some of the things he had said to her. _"You're not and never have been a good friend to me so just leave-me-alone."_

He wanted to die as he thought of that. How could he have said that to the one person who had always, always, always been there for him, forgiving and gracious and warm and kind and beautiful? In first year he had insulted her and despite that she had deigned to become his best friend. In second year she had been the driving force behind the plan for the Polyjuice Potion and all he had done was bag the idea- and yet it was _she_ who got the worst out of it in the end. In third year Ron had been completely and utterly wrong about Scabbers and he had been _so very horrible_ to her and despite that she had forgiven him and even been grateful that they were speaking again. In fourth year Ron had accused her of horrible things when she started knocking around with that Viktor Krum and yet it was _him_ acting like an idiot. And now, even though he had called her a bad friend in front of the whole common room she had still tried to stop Parvati Patil hurting him and he had thrown it back in her face. 

Ron suddenly felt cold all over. Through all the years he'd known her it was _him_, not Hermione, who had been the cause of all their arguments. She copped the brunt of his bad temper and the flak for all his stupid mistakes and yet she still came up smiling at him. For four years he had been completely horrible to her and still she remained there for him, stoic and wonderfully supportive and…"Oh _God_…" Ron wailed aloud, stopping dead in his tracks.

Why? Why should such a selfless and wonderful creature as Hermione Granger be bothered with him? He felt so desperately, amazingly _ashamed_, and it was all he could do not to collapse right there in the snow and grind his teeth with desperation, because of that sudden realisation, the realisation that he, Ronald William Weasley, was a totally blind _fool_. 

So he sat down, because his legs felt a bit weak and unable to carry him. He stared into the black, icy waters of the river, not caring that the ground was freezing or that his robes were slowly getting saturated as they soaked up water from the snow, but just feeling utterly…useless.

It felt like he sat there for some time before he heard the crunching of boots on snow coming toward him. Not wanting to talk to anyone, Ron buried his head in his knees, hoping that whoever it was would get the message and not say a word. The crunching boots stopped.

"Hello," said the person who owned the boots. It was Hermione.

She sat down next to him, but Ron didn't look at her. How could he? In fact for a spilt second he considered pitching himself headfirst into the lake, his shame was so potent. But the feeling passed, and instead he was left with the guilt burning in his stomach once more. Ron became barely conscious of all the other issues that had come up in the past weeks- it was Hermione who mattered now. She sat next to him in silence for quite some time, pushing snow around with her fingers. A long strand of her hair tickled Ron's cheek as the wind blew it free of her scarf. He could hardly stand it. Was she waiting for an apology? Or was she trying to figure how to tell him, exactly, that she would never deign to talk to him again? Ron had to say _something_…

"Say it."

She looked at him. Ron didn't look at her face but he knew she was looking at him because he could feel her steady gaze. "Say what?" she said finally.

"You know what."

"No, I don't. What?"

Ron took a deep breath. 'You told me this would happen. Say I told you so."

There was a pause. Then, quietly: "That's the last thing I want to say."

Ron didn't know how to answer. "Then," he said, struggling for words, 'Why are you here?"

"I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

Her reply had come so earnestly that it took Ron by surprise. _I wanted to make sure that you were okay_. Then he groaned aloud. "Hermione…please don't feel sorry for me. Please?"

"I don't feel sorry for you."

"Then _what_ are you doing here?" Ron repeated desperately. If she didn't want to tell him she was right all along, and if she didn't want to pity him, then what could she possibly want? It was so hard sitting next to her…

"I told you, I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Come off it!" Ron cried, despite himself. "You're great, Hermione, but you're not _that_ great. I was horrible to you. I called you a liar, and a bad friend, and, and- _god_ knows what else! And when you tried to help me I threw it back in your face. Now it turns out you were right all along, and I was wrong all along- how is it that you want me to be all right?" he finished with a desperate tone to his voice. Hermione shifted so that her shoe was touching his. 

"Apology accepted," she said succinctly. "Friends forgive each other, Ron."

Ron couldn't stand it. He looked at her- right into her eyes. 

She smiled at him. 

"Hermione," Ron groaned, 'Don't do this."

"Do what?' she said, confused. 

"Be so wonderful. You know what a bad friend I am. I feel terrible, and…"

Hermione did something she had never done before- she put an arm around his shoulders, and then leaned her face forward and pressed her forehead against his. 

"Friends forgive each other," she said again. Ron was momentarily speechless. How was it that he'd never realised how great she was before?

"I'm not a friend," he said hoarsely. 'I'm an idiot."

"How's that?" she said kindly.  
"Well, for starters, I insulted you, I didn't believe you, I yelled at you in front of everyone…" he paused. 'I punched Harry. And he didn't even do anything wrong, did he?"

"You're not an idiot, Ron," came the gentle reply. 'You're just an adolescent boy who was taken in by the charms of a very pretty girl. You're not the first, and you certainly won't be the last. You're not an idiot." She paused to let it sink in. "In fact," she said after a bit, "You haven't done anything wrong at all. When you got mad at me it was only because I was insulting your girlfriend. When you called me a liar it was only because you thought I was lying. You were so loyal to her Ron- it's loyalty that matters." She smiled at him, "Do you understand what I mean? You stood up to me because you thought I was doing something wrong, which means that you fought the good fight. Wasn't it Dumbledore who said: "it is harder to stand up to our friends than our enemies"? That's what you did. You're very brave. And you're very loyal."

It didn't validate his actions, but knowing that Hermione forgave him was worth anything. Ron, feeling a bit dizzy, leant his head down on top of hers, feeling not just abjectly grateful towards her, but a frank and deep affection. 

"You're a good friend Hermione. If I ever made you think otherwise I'm sorry."

"If we didn't have bad friends then we wouldn't know how good our good friends are." Hermione said simply, and they sat together for some time, leaning on each other, with Hermione's hair tickling Ron's cheek and Ron's hand, resting quite comfortably, on top of hers.

*

Harry found them eventually, and was, understandably, quite shocked to see them sitting together in the snow. He dithered around leaving or interrupting their moment, or whatever it was, but Hermione saw him.

"Harry!" she said, smiling. Ron's head jerked up and looked around to face him, blushing. Harry felt his own cheeks begin to redden. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he began to mumble, but Hermione was on her feet, having extricated herself from Ron's arms, and brushing her hair out of her eyes. 

"I'd better go back up to the castle," she said cheerily. She leant down and whispered something in Ron's ear, at which he nodded and blushed a bit more. "Thanks Hermione." Harry heard him murmur. Hermione gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze as she passed, and suddenly he and Ron were alone. 

"Can I sit down, then?" Harry asked abruptly. Ron didn't look at him, but nodded. Harry felt despair stirring in his stomach, realising that Ron must have _really_ been angry with him if he couldn't even look at him. But he sat down next to Ron anyway, and a great silence ensued. Ron still didn't look at Harry, and Harry wondered whether or not taking Sirius's advice had been such a good idea.

"Sort it out," his godfather had urged, when Harry had spilled the whole story to him last night, in Dumbledore's office. 

"But Sirius-"

"_Harry._ You didn't do anything wrong. Ron was just angry and shocked, that's all. No one wants to see their best friend kissing their girlfriend."

"But he punched me, he's never done that before, and-"

"Oh for heaven's sake," Sirius had said, waving away Harry's misgivings, "Your father and I used to beat each other up all the time."

"Really?"

"Yes," Sirius said firmly. "With pillows," he'd added after a moment's silence. 

Harry groaned inwardly. He desperately wanted to say "I'm sorry," and explain himself to Ron but the words were having a hard time coming out of his mouth. He thought about what Sirius had said again. "Don't apologise," he'd said firmly. "And don't let Ron apologise either. The only person who's at fault here is the girl. What's her name?"

"Parvati Patil…"

"Yeah, her. And me."

"You?" Harry had looked up at Sirius quizzically from behind the ice filled bag he was holding to his face, the better to soothe the injury on his face that Ron had given him. 

"Yes," Sirius had said humbly, "I'm sorry I snapped at you for being worried about your friends. I didn't realise things were so bad."

"Neither did I," Harry had said morosely.

Despite what Sirius had said, Harry finally found himself giving words to the great shame he felt inside his stomach. Even if it was Parvati's fault, he should have been firmer with her- he shouldn't have let himself get into the situation in the first place. Perhaps if he'd believed Hermione, this wouldn't have happened. He made a mental note to apologise to Hermione as well.

"I'm sorry," Harry finally said. He looked around. If he didn't know better he would swear he ah heard an echo. Ron was looking at him in surprise. It took a moment for them both to realise that they had said the same thing.

"_You're_ sorry?" Ron blurted out, the same time Harry said, "What are _you_ apologising for?"

A faint grin appeared on Ron's face, and Harry couldn't help but grin back. "Why are _you_ sorry?" Ron said, his grin turning into a faint smile of puzzlement.

"For- for, you know, what happened." Harry said. "And everything else. But mostly for what happened yesterday. I shouldn't have let her get to me."

"Everything else?" Ron repeated quizzically.

Harry shrugged. "I haven't been very nice to you since you started going out with Parvati, and I'm sorry for it. I just wish, you know, that things could go back to the way they were- before you started going out with Parvati. They can, right? Ron?" Harry paused. "What are _you_ apologising for?" 

Ron looked away, his grin notably absent. "I hit you. In case you don't remember." He looked up and his eyes raked Harry's cheek for signs of bruising. "And I- I did everything wrong."

"Ron?" Harry said, as Ron put two hands to his face.

"No, shut up, let me finish," came the muffled reply. "I'm an idiot. I've always been an idiot. I always will be an idiot. I don't deserve friends like you and Hermione. Because, if all it takes to turn me into a bad friend is one girlfriend, then I'm obviously not a good enough friend to either of you. I'm sorry I hit you, and I wish I'd never dated Parvati in the first place, because all she did was turn me into this, this…stupid dickhead who couldn't even stand up for his friends against her. So, yeah, Harry," He finally took his hands away from his face, and let out a huge sigh. "Of course I want things to go back to the way they were, but I just want you to know that they can't. Because from here on in, I know that I don't deserve a friend like you, and that's going to sit here-" he tapped his chest with a curled fist, "-for the rest of my life."

It was by far the most heartfelt thing Ron had ever said directly to Harry. Harry was shocked, firstly by Ron's forwardness, but secondly by what Ron was saying. For a few moments all he could do was gape soundlessly at Ron, and then finally:

"You- you- ridiculous prat!" he finally snapped. Ron sighed.

'I know," he began, but Harry cut him off by thumping his fist to the ground.

"You _are_ an idiot- but only because you _think_ you're one! And if you ever say anything like that to me again, _I_ might have to thump _you_ one, you git!"

Ron was by now, thoroughly confused. "Harry?"

"Do you honestly think that you don't deserve me? Ron!" and now all Harry could do was laugh, "You are by _far_ my best friend in the world, and no one's going to change that- not Parvati Patil, not Voldemort, not me, not even you, with your stupid thick head!"

"You mean, you mean," Ron said unable to keep the grin off his face. "We're okay? You don't mind that I hit you and- well, you don't mind everything?"

"Oh please," Harry said, rolling his eyes, "If we're going to fight, it should at least be over something more important than Parvati Patil."

Although what Harry had said was not particularly funny, neither he nor Ron could stop laughing for quite some time. Harry knew it was because he was so relived, so happy, so utterly delighted that he couldn't stop the happiness bubbling up his throat. Judging by the grin on Ron's face, he felt pretty much the same way.


	8. Eight

Ron had been right when he said thing between the three of them would never be the same again. However, unlike Ron had expected that change in their relationship was a change for the better. All three of them had felt so inherently miserable when the balance between the three of them had been disrupted along with appearance of Parvati Patil that the relief they felt at sorting it all out was profound- to make up for the mistakes they had made in the past, the friends were warmer and more honest with each other than they had ever been. None of them ever said voice it but they all three knew a change had come over them. Hermione came closest to putting their newly realised affection with each other not words, though- "I don't think it would be a good idea for us to fight again. We're too hard to keep away from each other." Harry and Ron agreed whole-heartedly. 

Harry also took the time to apologise to Hermione from the very bottom of his heart- he and Ron had both treated her appallingly over the last couple of months and they were both abjectly remorseful about it. Hermione waved it away however.

"Oh please, Harry- if anyone should be apologising, it's me. If I hadn't-" and here she paused and blushed a little, "If I hadn't objected so much to Parvati going out with Ron in the first place then you both probably would have believed me."

"You were jealous?" Harry filled in for her.

Hermione's face darkened a shade. "Yes, I suppose I was. But," she added quickly, "It's not because I fancy him or anything, if that's what you're thinking. I've never really liked Parvati, and of course I would be jealous if you started dating someone as rotten as her as well. She didn't deserve Ron. Or you."

"Hah," was all Harry said, and the broad grin on his face broadened as Hermione mumbled an excuse and beat a hasty exit away from the conversation.

As for Parvati herself, she was in disgrace. Somehow, the story leaked out. Parvati Patil was a liar. Parvati Patil was a slut. Parvati Patil broke Ron Weasley's heart by trying to sleep with Harry Potter. Parvati tried to force herself on Harry- it was all out there, even more ludicrous and sensational on the lips of every Hogwarts student in the school. Hermione had initially suspected Harry of letting the Hogwarts rumour mill churn out this particular piece of gossip- it would have been a nice revenge for him after all- but he swore it wasn't. Hermione believed him, as some of Parvati's disgrace initially reflected onto Harry- someone twisted the story around to make it seem as though Harry had been the one trying to force himself upon Parvati- and for a few weeks Harry had boys of all ages stoping him in the corridors to find out if Parvati Patil was as good a kisser as everyone said. 

Eventually, though, Hermione discovered who the real culprit was. It happened one day close to the end of term when Hermione had retreated to the library to get some work done on her own. It was too hard to get anything done with the boys around lately, although she did feel awfully lonely once she was in there. She wasn't, however, alone for long. 

"It was me."

Hermione looked up from her book to see Lavender Brown standing over her, an extremely morose expression on her face. Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry?"

"Me. I told everyone about what Parvati did."

Hermione blinked a couple of times. "All right."

Lavender sat down. "Parvati told me what happened- most of it wasn't true of course. She made it seem as though _she_ hadn't done anything wrong. Then I overheard Ron telling bits and pieces of it to Ginny and I sort of pieced it together myself."

Hermione was by now, completely baffled. "Lavender- this is possibly our first conversation in five years. Why are you telling me this?"

Lavender shrugged. "I just wanted to let you know that I don't like what Parvati did to Ron and Harry. Especially not to Ron."

"Why?"

Lavender picked at her fingernails. "It was nasty and sneaky of her. She's so two-faced, Parvati. She's always showing off and trying to suck up to the seventh year girls. She only keeps me around to remind herself that she's better than me."

Hermione had always privately thought this, but didn't say so. Instead she repeated, "Why are you telling me this?"

Lavender looked bemused. "I'm not sure. I suppose I just wanted you to know that whatever you might think- I'm not like Parvati. I have a conscience."

"And why do you think you have to validate yourself to _me_?" Hermione said. "We barely acknowledge each other's existence."

"Well, now's as good a time as any to start."

She was, Hermione realised with astonishment, being surprisingly mature and objective about the whole thing- two qualities she generally respected in a person. She grinned at Lavender- and Lavender grinned back. The mild animosity that had always existed between the two suddenly felt miles away. That's how it remained from then on.

But of course, the animosity between Hermione and Parvati was too much to ignore. Hermione couldn't deny that the disdain she'd once held for Parvati had evolved into hatred, and it was pretty clear that Parvati felt the same way about her. Hermione wouldn't out it past Parvati to curse her while she was asleep, the way things were going, and so she took to waiting until she was sure Parvati was asleep before going to bed herself. Things had to come to a head between them, and on the day that Lavender approached Hermione in the library, there also appeared a rather vulgar message on the message board outside Gryffindor homeroom. Furious, Parvati rounded on Hermione the moment she stepped back into the homeroom after dinner.

"What's your problem you stupid bitch?" she snapped, accosting Hermione as soon as she stepped through the portrait hole.

"I don't have one. What's yours?" Hermione replied frostily, as she stalked past Parvati and made to walk up to the girls dorms. Parvati grabbed Hermione's arm; her long, varnished fingernails could be felt through Hermione's robes and she winced.

"Take your hands off me," she said, struggling to control her temper. The obvious display of anger had caught the eye of a few Gryffindors- the words "cat fight" were audible above the murmurs that ran around the common room. Hermione felt her face grow hot as everyone turned to stare at her. She knew people had been expecting a catfight between Parvati and herself for some time, and she was not about to indulge the gossip-mongers of Gryffindor. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. "Look," she said, "Maybe we should go somewhere else and talk about this?"

"Why? So you can hex me without everybody watching?" Parvati said spitefully.

"No, that's not it at all, I just-"

"Just admit it! You spread those rumours about me! And you wrote that message on the board!"

"What message?' Hermione snapped, not having noticed the graffiti on her way in. "_Please_ let go of my arm."

Parvati finally released her grip., but continued to shout furiously at her. "You're such a _cow_, Hermione Granger! You think you know everything, and just because your friends like you more than they've ever liked you, you spread all those rumours about me! That's _so_ pathetic."

Hermione couldn't help it. "Pathetic? What's pathetic?" she snapped. "How about trying to secure the attentions of a boy by dating his best friend? How about behaving like you own Hogwarts when in fact half of the people here only know your name because of what you did to Ron and Harry! How about breaking someone's heart just because an old, confused lady like Professor Trelawney told you to?" Parvati looked surprised- obviously she hadn't known that Hermione knew about professor Trelawney's prediction. Hermione managed to get a few more words in. "Pathetic is believing that girls are only as good as the boys their dating- I believe that's the credo you live by, right? Well let me just tell you, despite the fact that you just dated one of the most loyal, brave and talented boys in Gryffindor does not make anywhere near as valuable or as good as he is! The fact that you tried to break his heart makes you a complete and utter low-life. One day you're going to leave Hogwarts and then you're going to realise that nobody _cares_ if you're dating a Quidditch player or even Harry Potter- that's just it. Nobody cares. The fact that you base your life around such a trivial, petty, useless conquest- well. That's pathetic." 

Somebody started applauding- later on, Hermione strongly suspected it to be Lavender Brown- and then the whole homeroom joined in. Parvati looked for a split second like she was about to burst into tears as the homeroom cheered Hermione's quiet but furious tirade. Parvati turned back to Hermione and with a strangled, angry cry, started towards her- Hermione was sure, for one second, that Parvati was going to slap her. But Ron- who, Hermione later found out, had watched the whole thing- grabbed hold of Parvati's arm firmly.

"God, you just don't know when you're beaten, do you?" he shouted at her, over the applause. "Deal with it Parvati, she got the better of you. Not surprising, really- you're not even in the same league as her- in any respect!"

Parvati wrenched her arm free with a shout of fury, delivered a resounding slap to Ron's cheek, and before Hermione could even react, dashed out of the common room. Fred and George Weasley hissed at her as she left. 

Hermione lay awake for a very long time that night, and not just because she was too afraid to fall asleep lest Parvati Patil did something to her in the middle of the night. She was thinking about what Ron had said. _You're not even in the same league as her in any respect._

Ron had stood up for Hermione almost as many times as he'd argued with her, but never before had something he'd said made her feel so inexpressibly fuzzy. 

And in the back of all of that, Ron worked, possibly harder than he ever had in his life. Hermione and Harry helped of course, as did the twins, and Sirius, when Ron sent letters to him, asking him for help. Everyone wanted Ron to pass, but none more so than Hermione. They stayed up late into the night together, long after everyone else had gone to bed, sometimes after the sun had risen. On more than one occasion did Harry wander down to the common room in the morning to find them both asleep on the same open book, still clutching quills in their hands. They still argued, of course- to Harry's mind, their arguments now were far more heated than they had been before the events of the past two months- all that had changed was that they now both found it so much easier to apologize to each other and be friends again. In fact, the arguments made them so miserable that they found themselves making it up much quicker than usual as well. In the midst of a period of a few hours, in which Hermione and Ron weren't speaking, Ron was to be found agitatedly asking Harry, "Is this all worth it? All this work Hermione and I are doing- it's just making us both cranky and mean to each other. Is it really all worth it?"

It was. By the end of the term, Ron was even getting a C-plus in Potions, and on the final Charms assignment of the term he got the highest mark in the class. Professor McGonagall had been spotted giving him a smile and Snape's loathing increased as Ron's marks did. But that wasn't the best part.

The best part was Hermione. Staying up late, working together almost every hour of the day, Ron found talking to her so much easier, so much better, that suddenly she wasn't just Hermione she was Hermione and everything else as well. Reflecting on their years of friendship, Ron found that he hadn't, as he had previously thought, only put up with her because Harry did, but that the deep affection he'd had for her had always been there. For Hermione's part she had never felt more at ease with Ron as she did. They talked about things they used to less, and talked about everything else more, and both started to appreciate the other's more beautiful qualities than they had done ever before. 

On the last day of term Ron got a note from Professor Dumbledore in the morning's post, that read: 

__

Dear Mr Weasley,   
Your efforts do you proud. I must congratulate you on your magnificent academic performance and improvement in the last month. Do not forget that in continuing to work hard you will reap even greater rewards in the future, and I have no doubt in my mind that this will be the case. Unfortunately I will not be able to attend your brother's wedding and have had to decline his kind invitation (along with my heartiest congratulations to him) so do have a very Merry Christmas and remain safe throughout this holiday period.  
Sincerely,  
Professor Dumbledore

"Don't listen to him Ron, " said Fred, as he read over Ron's shoulder (and chewed toast rather noisily in his ear). "You've worked your arse off. Take a break."

Ron folded up the letter and stuck it in his pocket, feeling more content with himself than he had done for ages. "No," he said, "I don't think I will." He and Hermione shared a grin.

"I'm very proud of you," she whispered, and squeezed his arm. 


	9. Nine

__

A/N: Reviews are cooooooooooool…thanks to everyone who left one. Also, I suppose I should explain that the title isn't so much a description of the content of the story (though it is pretty apt) but a link to that Frank and Nancy Sinatra song, "Somethin' Stupid" (recently redone by Robbie/Nicole. Damn their hides.) You know, "And then I went and spoiled it all by saying something stupid like I love yoooooo", etc. You'll see what I mean later in the story.

*

So then for the first time ever Ron found himself going home for Christmas. As well as Hermione and Harry, the twins had brought home Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, and Ginny had invited her friends Henrietta, and-to Harry's utmost despair- Colin Creevey.

"Ginny- _why_?" he had wailed, rounding on the poor girl as soon as he heard.

"He's my friend," Ginny said, taken aback.

"He's also a twit with a an obsessive compulsive disorder!"

Ginny had crossed her arms across her chest. "Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so!"

"Well, don't worry," she said in a very dangerous voice reminiscent of Ron's when he was about to blow a fuse. "We wouldn't bother _you_ if you paid us, Mr. Potter." Harry's shocked expression as Ginny stalked off to the girls dorms with Hermione had brought rather a too-large grin onto Ron's face. Harry glared at him. "And what's so funny?" Ron had shrugged and smiled mysteriously, and Harry had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to appease Ginny's bad mood.

The morning of December the 24th found the four Weaslies who still attended Hogwarts and their honourary Weasley friends speeding towards London on the Hogwarts Express. Everyone was in fine spirits (except perhaps Harry, who was having a hard time dealing with Colin Creevey in such an enclosed space as a train compartment) and by the time they were nearing London, the twins were in full Hoorah-for-Holidays mode as they guessed who Bill's mysterious fiancée might be.

"I bet it's a hag," Fred said. "Bill always did have a soft spot for ugly creatures, remember that girl he dated when we were in first year?"

"Nah, I bet it's a man, hey." George grinned. "You never know, with that long hair someone could have mistaken Bill for a girl."

"What if he's marrying _Percy_? He looks like a woman!" Fred sniggered. 

"I bet it's a house-elf, trying to gain human-status by marrying one," George guessed.

"Oh, _please_…" Hermione started. Fred and George grinned.

"You know, Hermione, I _eat_ house elves…" George started. He stopped at the look on Hermione face with a sheepish grin, but it didn't stop the rest of the compartment bursting into laughter- all except Ron.

"Oy, leave it," he said giving George a nudge with his large left foot. Hermione felt pleased at the time but ended up wishing Ron hadn't done it, because Fred and George spent the rest of the journey raising their eyebrows and nudging each other with very suggestive looks on their faces. It wasn't the first time of course- the Weasley twins had always joked about the "rampant sexual tension" between Hermione and Ron- but lately…

Hermione supposed it was just being so pleased that they were all friends again, but lately she couldn't get enough of Ron. That was disturbing enough in itself, but she had also admitted to herself that the reason she disliked Ron dating Parvati so much because she was jealous. There was no use pretending that undeniable facts were, well, deniable: She had been jealous. It was the _why_ that bothered her so much…

It wasn't just because she disliked Parvati, either. She'd known it from the moment she saw them holding hands in the Three Broomsticks: she couldn't stand it when Ron looked at other girls. And why was that? Well, she was far too clever not the think of several possibilities, but all of those possibilities made her palms sweaty and her heart quiver. Especially when she realized that those sorts of possibilities had been in the back of her mind, since, well, their fourth year. That was when Ron became not just Ron, but Ron-and-everything-else. That was not when he became Ron-who-smelt-sweaty-after-Quidditch-training, but Ron-who-smelt-nice-after-showering. Ron whose hair flopped insistently over his forehead no matter how many times he pushed it out of the way. Ron whose beautiful hands would sometimes touch hers while they were working together, and so conscious was he of the fact that they had touched her would pull away as if her had been burned. Ron whose eyes reminded her of the embers in the fire when he looked at her. God…could it be true? That he wasn't smelly big old Ron anymore but someone she would consider as a…Hermione could barely even think it, and knew that she would never be able to say it aloud…

She was jerked out of her reverie as the train pulled into Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and was more disturbed to find that Ron had been looking at her. He blushed furiously when she caught him, and not even Hermione grinning at him as kindly as she could would coax him to look her in the eye as they rambled out of the train with their rucksacks and bags and bird cages. They found Charlie waiting there for them quite patiently, only to be bombarded by question from the four Weaslies with reference to Bill's mysterious fiancée.

"I think I'll let you meet her yourself," was all he said, and, for some inexplicable reason, looked at Ron and gave him a very deliberate wink. The Weasley twins howled their disapproval, but managed to pack everyone's things into the hired car fairly quickly and Fred, George, Ginny and Colin piled into the front seat. As Hermione was now used to, the inside of the car had been magically fixed so that everyone could fit inside, although not especially comfortably.

"Gee, Charlie, why didn't you get a smaller car?" said Fred sarcastically. 

"Yeah, I mean, we're perfectly comfortable, we can afford the space," mumbled George from under Colin Creevey.

"Sorry, kiddo," said Charlie mildly. He turned to the remainder of the group- that being Angelina, Lee, Henrietta, Harry, Ron and Hermione, not to mention Crookshanks, Hedwig and Pigwigeon "Okay- you guys'll have to fit in the back somehow."

"I know!" called Fred gleefully, from inside the car, "Angelina can sit on me! Want to sit in the back, Ginny?"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea, Fred," said Charlie mildly. Angelina raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not sitting on him."

"No, but you can all sit on each other. Come on, in you go."

And after much grumbling and a fair bit of embarrassment, they managed to get themselves sorted out. Henrietta sat perched rather awkwardly on Lee Jordan's knees, while Harry, being a good two feet shorter than Angelina, sat comfortably in her lap. That left Ron, and Hermione. Of course, Hermione thought, swallowing hard as she followed Ron into the car. It _had_ to be this way. Expecting- as the tension between them was bound to dictate- an uncomfortable journey perched on the end of Ron's knobbly knees, Hermione was inexpressibly shocked when Ron out both his arms around her and drew her close to him, so that both of his hands rested on top of hers. _I'm sitting on Ron's lap…_ she thought, as her face went red.

"Are we ready, boys and girls?" Charlie asked.

"Yes," came the ragged chorus. (Ron's breath tickled the back of Hermione's neck as he spoke.) Charlie started the car with a crunching of gears, and they were off. 

Hermione found herself feeling ambivalently comfortable and nervous as the journey wore on. Ron's arms around her felt so inexplicably…_right_, that Hermione found her heart sped up at the feeling. Finding comfort in Ron's arms? She almost giggled. So conscious was she of everything- the scent of his deodorant, his breath tickling her neck, his stomach rising and falling as he respired, every single shift of his legs, every single movement of his fingers- that it came as a surprise to her when she found that she had leant back into him, encouraging him to hold her closer to his chest. She felt, very briefly, his nose touch the back of her head. His heart was beating and so was hers- hard. She felt quite dizzy. The conversation in the car rose and fall like Ron's stomach. 

"…And so the vampire says, "No thanks, I'm making tea!"" Not even Lee Jordan's crude jokes could take away this moment. _I'm enjoying this_, Hermione realised, _I like having him hold me like this…_She suddenly realized that she could feel someone's gaze and looked up to see George Weasley twisted round in his seat, staring at them both. He gave her a grin and a wink before turning back around and whispering in his brother's ear. Hermione's face flushed, and she wondered if Ron had noticed. Apparently he had.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he murmured into her ear.

"No," she whispered back, twisting her head so that she could see his face. "Am I?"

"Not at all." He paused. "Don't pay any attention to George."

"I never do."

"He's a git."

"He's a lovely git, though."

"I'm sorry he made that joke about house-elves."

"It's not your fault. Don't apologise for him."

"Were you terribly offended?"

And Hermione found herself thinking _Have I ever been this close to him before?_ Not just physically- had they really ever been such good friends before? When did Ron start wondering if his brother's jokes offended her? When did they start worrying if they made the other uncomfortable? She felt, amazingly, inexplicably, that their physical comfort with each other was stemming from their newfound closeness. Hermione suddenly had a vision of that night, so many nights ago, when she and Ron had been lying on top of each other in the common room. But they had been nowhere near as emotionally in sync then as they were now…. And yet that night changed everything- not just because it was the night Parvati Patil happened to come into their lives and disrupt everything, but because she had noticed Ron as, for possibly the first time, not just as a boy, not just as a friend, but as…someone she could easily grow to care about in a way that was a lot deeper…

And she had. 

"You all right?" Harry was shaking her arm. "You look like you're about to collapse."

Hermione smiled. "It's okay, Ron's got me." 

And he had.


	10. Ten

Ron could hardly miss the meaningful look that George shot him as Hermione scrambled off his lap the moment the car had stopped in the driveway of the Burrow. Nor could he avoid the dig in the ribs from George as he climbed down, more slowly, after her. 

"Did I…miss something?" George asked, with a wink. Ron's blush was obviously all George needed for an answer. "Ron…"

"What?" Ron snapped angrily.

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

George inclined his head towards Hermione, who had ran forward and linked arms with Ginny. The two girls were chatting excitedly as they headed for the front door- Hermione turned and gave Ron one backward glance, and he felt his heart turn over. What exactly had compelled him to do that to her? It wasn't just the thought that a three-hour journey would have been incredibly uncomfortable for her if she were perched on his knees- it was that there she had been. He knew he wouldn't have been able to stand the journey without hugging her, at least once. But wouldn't that go the same for all his female friends? Like…

Ron blinked. He didn't _have_ any other female friends aside from Hermione. Bizarre that he'd never realised it, really. 

"Well?" George said, and his face was perfectly serious. "Do you fancy her, or something?" The sincere expression was ruined by a smirk that crept onto his face. Ron knew that there was no answer he could give that wouldn't invite George to hound him for the rest of the evening. 

"_No_." The answer came out involuntarily, and no sooner had the words left Ron's mouth than he wondered if they were true. Then he wondered why he was even wondering if he fancied Hermione. She was his best friend for God's sake! When did she suddenly go from being Just Hermione to Hermione, The Potential Girlfriend?

So preoccupied was he with this problem that he let George drag him into the house, and did not even look up until Hermione let out a cry of surprise, as Bill's mysterious fiancée was led into the front hall.

"Oh my _god._" Ron looked up. (A/N: Mainstream alert!)

It was Fleur Delacour. 

"Shit," he said, before he could stop himself. 

Fleur Delacour, ex-students of Beaxbatons Academy and the toast of the Triwizard Trounament, was standing in his living room, holing hands with his big brother.

"Bonjour!" beamed Fleur. 

"Hi! Everyone, meet Fleur Delacour!" Bill said, beaming around at thew stunned faces. "If you haven't already," he added, and then his grin widened. "Well? Say hello."

There was a sudden kafuffle of movement as the Weaslies and honorary Weaslies moved to Fleur and Bill, shaking their hands, kissing their cheeks, while Mrs. Weasley looked on approvingly. Fleur gave Ron a grin of recognition and kissed him twice, on both cheeks. "It is so wonderful to see you again!_ Trés bon!_" she cried in her sing-song accent. She let out a gasp of pure delight as she spotted Harry loitering behind Ron. "'Arry! _Ma cherie_! It 'as been too, too long!" Ron leapt out of the way in time to avoid being crushed into Fleur and Harry's hug. Harry himself looked heartily embarrassed. Ron stumbled into Bill, who promptly gave him a hug. 

"Ron?" he said, smiling, "So? What do you think?"

"What do you mean, what do I think?" Ron blinked.

"About Fleur! You know," he lowered his voice, "Fred and George told me you had a crush on her last year."

A crush? Just thinking about it brought blood rushing to Ron's ears. "Oh- I, um- er-"

Bill laughed. "I'm flattered, believe me. No one has better taste than my little brother."

Ron thought of Parvati Patil, and his ears went redder. "Congratulations Bill, she's really cool."

"Cool," Bill laughed, "She is, at that." 

__

Actually, Ron thought, looking at Fleur squeeze all the breath out of Lee Jordan, _she isn't, really_. Last year he could have described Fleur as "cool"- with her haughty expression and disdain for Hogwarts. Even the way she walked had been arrogant, her long silvery blonde hair swishing behind her as she strolled through the great corridors of the school, head held high as a group of fervent admirers strayed after her. Ron knew that after the second task of the triwizard tournament she had become a lot more friendly- especially towards Harry and his friends because he took the trouble of rescuing her little sister. But as he watched Fleur deliver kisses and hugs to all his family and their friends, he realised that this was a side of Fleur he had never seen before. Why, she was practically in tears from happiness, and Ron had to wonder if it was something to do with being in love. For she certainly was in love- that much was obvious from the way she would turn to look at Bill with the most obvious adoration in her eyes, and squeeze his hand as she met each family member/ friend as if he gave her some sort of incredible strength. Ron also had to wonder if he'd ever felt that way about Parvati. As much as he disliked her presently, there must have been some factor that compelled him to stay with her for so long…?

__

Or maybe, he thought, feeling a deep pit of shame open up in his stomach, _I'm just an idiot._

"Ron, dear!" His mother was beckoning him furiously, "Now, your Uncle Machivellia and Aunt Mildred are arriving tomorrow along with Michael, Mabel, Macbeth and Malachy-" Ron couldn't fight a groan. He hated his cousins. "- And so are Aunt Victoria and Aunt Verity, as well as Aunt Valberga; Cousin Leroy and his girlfriend will be staying in your room, and so will Grandpa Polonius and Grandma Peony-" Ron groaned again. Grandpa Polonius had an unfortunate habit of spitting and turning things into badgers whenever it took his fancy. 

"Where are Harry, Hermione and I staying?" he interrupted, not wanting to know what other members of the Wealsey family she'd managed to dig up.

"Outside, dear."

Ron blinked. "Sorry?"

It turned out that his father had dug up the tents they'd used at the Quidditch World cup: One for the girls and one for the boys. There were also a few other tents set up outside the Wealsey's house- Ron assumed those were for the large amount of relatives coming to stay.

The Burrow was not the most relaxing place to stay on Christmas Eve. Ron decided he probably would have been more at ease in the middle of a freeway. Mrs. Weasley was the helm of organising the wedding, although her mental state had the stability of a small nuclear device. The ceremony was to be held on Christmas Day in the chapel in the village of Ottery St Catchpole. There were a lot of Weaslies staying in the inn in the village as well- the innkeeper, usually so short of business, suddenly found himself wondering if there was a convention nearby for redheads who all seemed to know each other. It was a relief to Ron when his mother declared that he was far too much of a nuisance to be any help, and he was allowed to escape along with his guests leave his mother to it. 

Fleur seemed to find Mrs. Weasley's ample contribution to the wedding plans especially moving; sporadically, the French beauty would burst into tears and throw her arms around Mrs. Wealsey's neck and babble her gratitude. "Yes, yes, dear," Mrs. Weasley would say fondly, "Here, have a cup of tea." And then they would go into a lengthy discussion about different floral arrangements, and the merits of said floral arrangements.

"Has someone confunded me?" Harry said, the moment they were outside the house. "Is that Fleur Delacour I just saw in there bawling into your mum's shoulder?"

"I'm finding it hard to believe myself," Hermione admitted. "Something's changed about her-"

"Yeah, like her personality!" Harry exclaimed. "Ron, did you know anything about this at all?"

"Nope," Ron said. 

"You so did!" Harry cried, rounding on him, "This is a joke isn't it? Are Fred and George in on it as well?"

"Nope."

"My god! Maybe _she's_ confunded."

Exactly what had happened to Fleur Delcaour, however, Ron didn't find out until later that night. Managing to escape for a bit from the chaos of the Burrow, Ron had ventured to the orchard for a bit of a think. After all, he had a lot to think about. At least that's what it seemed like. Because everytime he closed his eyes, everytime his mind wandered, there she was. Hermione.

But surely…surely this was a normal thing for friends to do? Think about each other? He'd thought about Harry as much, hadn't he? 

In his heart of hearts, he knew this was different. In that case, surely the fact that Hermione was no longer Just A Friend would bother him more? _It certainly did last year_, he thought.

"Shit," Ron said aloud. He realised then, that something very important had happened to him.

"Where?" said a mild voice behind him. Ron practically jumped out of his skin. Needless to say, even for a wizard-in-training, being surprised in a creepy orchard in the middle of the night was not a very pleasant feeling. But it was only Bill, grinning lopsidedly and rubbing his nose. "Sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you."

"Well you did a bloody good job of it anyway," mumbled Ron, waiting for his heartbeat to resume its normal pace. He grinned weakly. "You always were the talented one."

"Speaking of talented," Bill said, and drew a piece of parchment out of his pocket. "I found this with Pig. He was stuck in the drainpipe. I heard him wittering away to himself when I was in the laundry. He didn't seem to mind at all." He handed the soggy parchment to Ron. It was his interim school report. Even Ron, knowing firsthand how much he had improved, was pleasantly surprised.

__

Charms: A  
History of Magic: B  
Transfiguration: B-  
Potions: C  
Herbology: B  
Astronomy: B-  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: A  
Care of Magical Creatures: A+  
Divination: B+

Ron gaped. "I got a B minus in Transfigs!" He turned the parchment over, and instead of the usual teachers comments (_"Mr. Weasley needs to work harder…"_, _"Mr. Weasley needs to focus…", "Mr. Weasley has the attention span of a goldfish…") _there followed about six lines of praise from each of his teachers. 

__

Mr. Weasley is not only a delightful student but a diligent one…I must commend him on his effort and newfound talent in healing charms…Well done, Ron- Professor F. Flitwick.  
Mr. Weber has done exceedingly well this term…he has a good head for numbers, remembering dates, and so forth….Professor B. Binns  
Ronald is a delightful and diligent student who works well with plants and his peers…he should continue working on his Herbology and his marks will improve greatly…Professor P. Sprout  
Mr. Weasley has an enormous aptitude for this subject and will no doubt continue to improve if he works as hard as he has been lately…I am most impressed by his progress in the space of a couple of weeks…his talent has, I feel, until recently, been overshadowed by his lack of focus….Professor D. Sinistra   
Ronald's talent in this field is undeniable…I am delighted to say that his scatter-brain tendencies seem to have disappeared and his focus has improved so much I feel that I must commend him personally. Well done, Ronald, you do your house proud…Professor F. Turtledove  
Ron is one of my favorite students and I look forward to lessons with him…he should definitely consider a career in Magical Creatures. It must be a Weasley trait. Fair play to you, Ron…R. Hagrid   
I feel that Mr. Weasley's Inner Eye has been clouded until recently…Of course I had predicted that this remarkable transformation would take place. He has, rather like a butterfly, emerged form his cocoon and spread his beautiful wings…Professor S. Trelawney

Professor Snape's was by far the worst (_Mr. Weasley has improves somewhat since his first year.)_ but, coupled with his B minus in Transfiguration, which had always been Ron most difficult subject, was the most flattering comment he had received from professor McGonagall since she had congratulated him for making the Quidditch team by smiling and saying, 'Well done Ron for making the Quidditch team."

__

Ronald has always been a credit to Gryffindor house, albeit one with wayward intentions, but I must extend my personal congratulations to him for his recent achievements which are nothing short of remarkable. In the space of a few weeks Ron has improved his marks so definitively that he must be commended on his remarkable effort. His inherent natural ability coupled with diligence and dedication make him not only a wonderful keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but a wonderful student to teach. Congratulations Ronald. You have made me proud- Professor M. McGonagall.

Ron felt himself practically glowing. Bill was positively beaming at him- a far cry from his usual commiserating smirk. "Ronnie, Ron, Ron," he sang softly, just like he had done when Ron was five. "Do you realise how proud I am of you right now?"

Ron was touched, and felt glad that it was too dark for Bill to see he cheeks going red. "Aw, get out of it."

"I'm serious," and there was a sort of tone to Bill's voice now that Ron didn't recognise…. Was it…admiring? "I can't believe you. A month or two ago mum got this owl form the school and she practically blew up the entire house, and went around for the next week screaming about how you were failing, how you were going to have to repeat, how we didn't' have the money to out you through another year of school…" he chuckled softly. "Come to think of it, it was funny…But anyway, you pulled through. And now you're going better than you ever were."

Ron's blushed deepened, and he hoped the moon shining through the trees wouldn't betray this fact to Bill. "Only because of Hermione," he said awkwardly, "only because she helped me…"

"Hermione's brilliant, but she's not _that_ brilliant." Bill's voice had a grin in it- Ron could tell he was smiling, even though it was too dark to see his expression properly. "It's you Ron. You read the report, didn't you? No one said, "Ron did it because Hermione Granger helped him." Nah. No way. _You_ did it. And only you can keep it up." He sighed, suddenly. "I don't think you'll remember this, you were quite young. But when I went into fifth year, I was going to have to repeat as well."

Ron stared. Just like Dumbledore had said…

They were sitting down now. They had reached the old oak tree stump that had been there since they were both much younger. The oak must have been a huge creature when it was living- the trunk was at least two metres in radius, and always surrounded by fairy rings. There were a few fairies flitting about under the moonlight now, as they sat down. The oak was in the middle of a clearing, and the moon was full. It shone down on them so strongly that Ron could now make out his brother's face as he continued, half-smiling as he recounted those school days of his. 

"'S'true. Mum had a _fit_…so did dad, actually. I can't blame them. Their first son going through Hogwarts, and he was going to repeat fifth year. And of course there was Charlie a year below me, struggling away with Transfigs and Charms and doing really well in Herbology and Car of Magical Creatures, and completely obsessed with Quidditch. And of course I was obsessed with…" he laughed suddenly, and Ron thought he sounded embarrassed. "I had this…_girlfriend…_I thought she was completely more important than anything school had to offer. She was pretty…" Bill paused. "And that's about it. She had nothing inside of her. No brains, no soul, no heart. She didn't have a passion for anything. After a while, I realised I was being stupid and broke up with her."   
Another pause. Ron could tell he was thinking. When Bill thought he exuded a kind of aura, sort of a…_You-can-tell-I'm-used-to-thinking_ kind of feeling. "You shouldn't let anyone get in the way of what's important, Ron. And I'm not saying schoolwork is the most important thing in the world either. It's not. It's…friendship. Justice. Bravery. That sort of thing." The words were serious, but Bill said them with a kind of careless aura, speaking as a man who had immersed himself in "Friendship, justice, bravery, and that sort of thing" long ago. "You shouldn't let anything get in the way," he repeated firmly, "Especially not just a pretty face."

__

Not just a pretty face…"Bill?" Ron said suddenly, "Why are you marrying Fleur Delacour?"

Bill threw back his head and laughed. "Fair play to you, Ron. She _is_ something, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can assure you, her face wasn't the first thing I saw. In fact, when I first met her properly, I couldn't see her at all." He paused. "The day before I'd opened a sarcophagus without reading the hieroglyphics properly. If I had I certainly would have left it shut, because they mummy that was left in there happened to jump out and curse me with a Blinding Jinx. I managed to counteract the curse in time so I wouldn't end up blind for the rest of my life, but only just. Some of the damage had already been done, and no doctor in Cairo could fix it. I was going to be blind for a month." A luxurious sigh escaped him. "I didn't mind too much, especially since I got paid sick leave from work and got to stay in the best Muggle hotel in Cairo for a while. And especially since I knew I was going to get better. Made me think though…" His brother's tone was serious again. "Wizards don't have stuff like blindness happening to them a lot because most of the time we can fix ourselves with a spell. But there a lots of Muggles who go their whole life without seeing anything. Just darkness. A week of darkness and I was already freaking out. I didn't think I'd be able to handle it for another three weeks."   
The serious tone disappeared as he went on. "But then I met Fleur. He family was on vacation and they were looking around the hotel. Being blind, I accidentally bumped into Fleur- knocked her down to the ground, in fact- and, well, she let me have it." he adopted a strong French accent. "_Excuse moi! 'Ow dare you, impudent young man! 'Ow dare you touch me!_ That sort of thing. Of course when I aplogised and explained to her I couldn't exactly see she wasn't really understanding. _Zat is no excuse, how dare you knock me off my feet! Impudence!_"He laughed again. "I hated her, of course. I'd just spent a week being blind and I had no pity for anyone who didn't understand what I was going through. I let her have it right back. I can't exactly remember what I said, but she wasn't pleased. So there we were, standing in the hotel foyer, screaming at each other." This time, Ron joined in the laughter. Bill was a very laid-back person in general, but when he blew a fuse, he went off. His foul temper had been far more prominent when he was younger- earning him the nickname "Bill the Banshee" around Howgarts, but by the time he'd reach his sixth year, he had began curbing it. "Then all of a sudden, she stops and she goes _Wait- are you not…Bill Wealsey?_ I said, yes, I am. She goes. _Oh but zis is a coincidence, no? I believe zat I met you last year, while I was in ze Triwizard Tournament- I am Fleur Delacour._ And I said, so what? And she said, _So, I am ze champion of Beauxbatons Academy, and you would do well to treat me with more respect! _So I said, Miss Delacour, I would treat a dragon turd with more respect than I would you, and I walked off before she could say anything else."

Ron gaped. "You didn't."

Bill nodded. 'I did. I spent the rest of the night feeling sorry for it as well. I mean, you shouldn't yell at a lady. But there was nothing to be done about it, so I decided to forget about Miss Delacour, whoever she was, and get on with my life."

"So you didn't remember her then?"

"Nope. The name rung a bell but I couldn't place a face to it. Anyway, the next day I got a knock on my door and Fleur's there. She tries to apologise but ends up doing it very badly and then had the hide to try and get me to go out on a date with her. I slammed the door in her face."

"You _didn't_."

"I did. I felt bad about that as well. But I couldn't help it. I _hated_ her. She came back the next day and the process was repeated. She ended up storming off and I sat in my room feeling bad for continually verbally abusing this French lady. Anyway, by the end of the week she came to me and asked me why I didn't want to go out with her, just once. I told her exactly what I thought of her."

"Which was?"

"I told she was a self-centred, privileged little brat who'd do well to realise that the world revolves around the sun rather than her. And no, the sun doesn't shine out of her arse either. That's the nice version anyway."

"Woah."

"Indeed. Eventually I stopped and asked her why she kept on asking me out on a date. I think her answer was what made me start liking her."

"What was it?"

"She said, _William Weasley, you are one of ze most beautiful men I have ver met._"

"Oh, well, of _course_ that made you like her!" Ron laughed. 'Anyone would like someone if they told them they thought they were beautiful."

"That wasn't it though," Bill said, "It was the fact that, right up until then, that was probably the humblest thing she'd ever done. So I went out on one date with her, that very night. "

"And?"

"And it was one of the most terrible evenings I'd ever encountered. It must have been over forty degrees that night and she makes me take her out to the most expensive restaurant in town and orders chicken flambé. Then she went on about Fleur for an hour and a half. By the time dessert rolled around, I had enough of both Fleur and the restaurant. So I paid for the bill and told her to come back when she'd grown a personality that wasn't detestable."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I felt terrible after that. I mean, the girl had obviously made an effort. And I mean of course I was fascinated by her. No one had managed to get me so ill-tempered for years. Not since Fred and George managed to levitate my bed onto the roof of the village chapel that time, anyway."

"I remember that."

'I don't see how you could forget," Bill said dryly. "Anyway, it was a week later and I was sitting in my hotel room, thinking about Fleur- still blind, mind you- and then she comes in, without knocking, and she sat down and just talked, and all the time she was saying _Bill, je suis desolee, vous etes ma belle reve._"

"What does that mean?"

"Bill, I am sorry. You are my beautiful dream." He paused. He was grinning. "She told me she'd changed. And I could tell she had. There was something…really earnest about the way she was talking. So I said, Fleur, I just want you to be yourself. And from then on, she was." Another pause. Another grin. "She was conceited back then. Extremely conceited. And immodest. And rude to anyone she thought was beneath her. Which was everyone beacsue she thought she was better than everyone. But I stuck with her, because she'd changed _for me_. That's a huge deal, because- well, you know, people don't change unless they want to. And it's a really hard thing to do, change yourself. And she'd done it for me. It was like shed had a complete personality turn around. It was like- beneath the pretentious, conceited Fleur, there was this really nice, really scared Fleur who just wanted everyone to like her, who just wanted to have fun. I told her I liked that Fleur better than the other one, and she said she liked me better than anyone she'd ever met. What I liked about that was that I could tells he was being completely honest. I mean, I was this horrible ginger-haired English brute who'd bossed her into changing her personality and she _still _liked me." Another luxurious sigh, and Ron thought, shit, he really loves her. Bill never talked about anyone that way before. He just wasn't that kind of person. To talk about Fleur Delacour with that sort of tone in his voice…it really meant something.

"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still likes you, Ron," Bill said. "Fleur's more than just my best friend though. She's seen the worst of me and the best of me and she still want to be with me. that's really something, you know? I wouldn't care if she looked like the rear end of a camel, I'd still be in love with her. It's sort of just a bonus that she looks like a goddess." He was grinning now. "Am I grossing you out?"

"Only slightly."

"Good, because I don't want you to throw up before I finish." He was serious again. "You ever find someone like that Ron, you've got to hang onto them. They'll love you for the rest of your life, you know? Someone who changes for you, and someone who makes you want to change for them. That sort of friendship can't be erased. It sort of sticks to you forever, and no matter how hard you try, or how much you want to, you can't rub it off. It sort of stains you- but in a good way. It's like how you stain your best Quidditch robes by skidding on the grass in the best match of your life, and you don't want to ever rub it off because it's a reminder of your match, not like a trophy, but a keepsake. You know what I mean?"

Ron knew what he meant. "Yeah," he managed to say. He felt dizzy. _Really_ dizzy. 

Bill got up, shaking himself off, as if shaking of the gravity of their conversation. "Anyway, we'd better get back. Hang onto that report, you'll want to show it mum."

__

It's a keepsake, Ron thought, as he tucked the precious report into his robes.

A keepsake of how he'd changed for her. 


	11. Eleven

__

A/N: To those lovely readers who have been following the story since I first posted it up: I decided to change the date of Bill and Fleur's wedding to Christmas day, not Boxing day like I said (previous chapters will be corrected asap). If there's any confusion: deal with it. If you're just tuning in- well, you won't have any inconsistency at all. Lucky you!

"The boys aren't up yet," Mrs. Weasley trilled as Hermione came into the Burrow the next morning. 

"I'm not surprised," Hermione said with a yawn, "That Quidditch game they had last night went on for ages."

"And they've completely ruined these robes," Mrs. Weasley tutted, holding up Ron's muddy robes that he'd been wearing the night before. "Would you mind helping me with the laundry, dear?"

"Not at all." Hermione answered.

"Good girl, thank you. Just turn out these pockets in the kitchen, would you? There's come croissants on the table for breakfast," Mrs. Weasley said as she handed Hermione a stack of dirty boys' robes. Hermione obligingly took them into the kitchen, where she absent-mindedly picked at a croissant as she emptied out the pockets of the muddy robes. Harry's pockets were empty except for a quill and a small scrap of parchment, whereas Bill's contained a number of Egyptian trinkets and a love-letter from Fleur, which Hermione politely abstained from reading. Charlie had a bottle of dragon tonic, a handkerchief, and a piece of parchment detailing a recipe for scones. Deciding she would leave Fred and George's until last (or at least until she'd picked up her wand. You never knew what could leap out of the pockets of the twin's robes) Hermione picked up Ron's muddy robes. She found herself staring fondly at them for a moment or two, then shook herself. _Stop being ridiculous_. Ron was Just Ron. It was ridiculous to look at him the way she'd been looking at him. Which was certainly not the way a friend looks at another friend. She stuck her hand into the front pocket of his robes and found an old piece of parchment. She would have put it down if it hadn't been for the glimpse of the Hogwarts logo and Professor McGonagall's signature. _Surely_, she thought, her heat sinking, _he's not still in danger of being kept back? Not after he's worked so hard?_ She opened it surreptitiously, feeling bad, but needing to know what was wrong. But nothing _was_ wrong, after all.

Hermione practically choked on her croissant. It was his school report. And it was brilliant. 

"Are you all right dear?" Hermione heard Mrs. Weasley yell as she dashed out the front door to the boys tent, still clutching the report in her hand, not bothering to put her Wellington boots back on. Her slippers were soaked form the snow by the time she'd opened the flap of the tent, but it hardly mattered. _Why_ hadn't Ron told her? Obviously he'd gotten it last night some time, but-

"_Oof!_"

"Ow!"

Hermione had practically smacked into Ron as he came out of the tent. Both went sprawling onto the ground. Now Hermione's dressing-gown was soaked as well.

"Hermione!" Ron practically leapt to his feet, rubbing his elbow where he'd landed on it, and pulled her to her own feet with both hands. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, but-but…." Hermione just couldn't _stand_ it! "Oh, _Ron!_" She threw both her arms around his neck wildly: she couldn't help it. She was just so proud of him. All that work he'd done had been worth it- all those arguments they'd had, all those late nights, all that effort- he'd done it. He'd pulled his marks up to better than they ever had been before. And only in the space of a few weeks? It was phenomenal! He was _so_ talented, _so_ brilliant, and_ so_ wonderful!

"_Hermione_!" Ron said again, this time with much less certainty. "Wha- what?" He had stiffened in surprise at first, but now he obligingly squeezed her back, and Hermione felt a little tingle go up her spine. "What was that for?" he said. He looked quite pleased, and his ears and cheeks were slightly red, although that could have been because of the cold. Hermione couldn't speak (for embarrassment? Or…something else?) so she just brandished the report wordlessly. Ron went pinker- it _wasn't_ just because of the cold. "Oh," he said, obviously embarrassed, "That."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" Hermione cried, wincing as her voice got shrill. "I mean," she said, calming down and smiling at him. "Ron, this is- oh, this is just _brilliant_." She looked up at him excitedly, expecting some sort of reaction from her praise, but Ron was staring at the ground, not looking at her eyes. He still looked embarrassed. "What's' wrong?" she asked, taken aback.

"Nothing," he mumbled. 

"There's obviously something," Hermione said, slightly hurt that Ron was hiding something from her. Weren't they better friends than that now? "Tell me."

"It's just…it's just…" Ron was struggling to find the words- and still struggling to meet her gaze- and Hermione found herself taking his hand. He stopped and gawped at her hand for a moment, then finally, gawped at her face. "It's just- oh, Hermione, that's the best I can do!"

__

What is he talking about? Hermione thought for two seconds as she stared in amazement as his embarrassed face. "What are you talking about?"

"Well come on! Look at it! We've been working away for the past two weeks like madmen, and I've probably got about six hours sleep in the last _twelve_ days, and if it weren't for you I probably would have done worse in everything, and- _god_!" As if to manifest his frustration, his breath came out in a sharp white cloud. "Look at it Hermione! It's not brilliant at all! Everyone says it is because they don't' expect any better of me, I'm the stupid one. Even Charlie managed to get an A in Transfiguration before he left Hogwarts." He ran a hand through his hair (which flopped insistently down into his forehead) as he continued to ramble. "And even if it _was_ straight As, it wouldn't matter because Bill and Percy have done it before. Face it, I'm hopeless. Working solid for a fortnight and what do I get? Three As, Four Bs, and a C? It's worse than pathetic." His voice was suddenly hopeless. "I don't know why you bother with me. That's the best I can do, even with your help- and _you're_ top of the class. It's nothing, just nothing, and all the work we did was for nothing. I'm just too stupid."

There was about five seconds of silence before Hermione drew back her hand and slapped Ron in the face. 

The _smack_ of her hand against his smooth cheek resounded like the sound of a firecracker, and it seemed to echo around before being absorbed by the snow. Ron was so shocked, he actually stared at her for a few seconds before stumbling backwards, as if he didn't realise it had happened until then. His cheek went bright red- Hermione could actually see her hand imprinted on it against his freckles. He couldn't even talk- couldn't even breathe by the look of it. He just gaped at her, his brown eyes beginning to crackle with an unmistakable hurt expression. For a second or two, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. _Why on earth did I do that?! _then she remembered, and she began to yell.

"I told you I would slap you if you ever said that again," she began, and Ron's eyes grew wide as he remembered too. "I told you, and you deserve it Ron Weasley. I've never met a person who is obviously intelligent and yet so undeniably- _stupid!_ Bloody _hell!_" She yelled out the last part, and Ron jumped back, as if he were afraid he might hit her again. "Now you listen you me," Hermione cried tearfully, "and listen _really hard_ because I never want to have to say this to you again, or I will never _ever_ speak to you, _ever_, and I mean it!" She didn't of course, and she wondered if the thought of them never talking again hurt him as much as it hurt her. She brandished the report again. "What you've just accomplished in a fortnight is nothing short of phenomenal. If I didn't know any better I'd say you cast some sort of spell on yourself to make you suddenly accumulate exceptional powers of concentration. You worked _so_ hard for this and now you stand there saying it's nothing?! _We_ worked so hard for this, and-" 

For one horrible moment, Hermione found herself teetering on uncertainly. Had she really slapped Ron because he said he was stupid? Or had it been because of what he said_? "It's nothing, just nothing, and all the work we did was for nothing." _When he had said that, hadn't Hermione felt he heart being squeezed as though some invisible force was trying to break it? Because that's certainly what those words felt like. Just nothing? Just nothing, when they had talked long into the night and all of a sudden really _found_ each other in a way that just couldn't be put into words, but which had made them both realise (she knew Ron had realised it too. He must have) just how important they were to each other? Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Ron didn't care about her the way she cared for him- and she did care for him. More than she could say. Maybe that's why she slapped him. Because their friendship, their new found bond, the way she has found herself changing over the past weeks- it came to nothing, for him? 

Nothing, when it meant so very much to her?

She was crying now, and Ron was gaping, an ambivalent expression on his face that Hermione found impossible to read. Then again, she was obviously no good at reading Ron's expressions. Not when she'd been thinking that he actually cared for her, when he obviously didn't…

"Maybe you are stupid Ron Weasley," she said, still crying, "But only because you can't look at the talents you have and feel proud of them. You're blind. You've totally missed it. Most people would give their right leg for what you have. For your talents. _I'd_ give my right leg for what you have." It was true. Hermione had often wished she had Ron's wit and strategy. She had to work for every mark she got, and in the space of two weeks, Ron had managed to get three As? And here he stood, calling himself _stupid_? It was almost insulting. "Oh, Ron!" she snapped, 'You just don't know what you've got. Maybe I shouldn't bother with you, because if you can't see how brilliant you are then maybe our entire friendship has been a waste of time. Maybe we…maybe we just shouldn't waste any more time with each other."

Ron finally spoke. "Hermione-" _  
_"_Just don't!_"

He drew back like she'd slapped him again. "Hermione…?"

Hermione was walking back towards the house. "Just don't. Don't bother. It's obvious that even _talking_ to each other is a waste of time."

"Wait- Hermione! What- I don't- you're being ridiculous!" he finally snapped

"Yeah, I am!" she bellowed back. "I _am _ridiculous_,_ I've been labouring under a misapprehension! According to you, our entire friendship has been ridiculous! So maybe since, you're so _stupid_, I should do us both a favour and end it right here."

And she ran off towards the orchard before Ron could say anything else.

*

Harry woke up to the sound of angry voices outside the tent, and immediately felt worried. It was Christmas Eve- who on earth would be fighting at a time like this?

It turned out (of course) to be Ron and Hermione. Harry was out of the tent, trying to pull on his boots and his sweater at the same time, just in time to see Hermione running off, in tears.

"Ow!" Harry said as he toppled to the ground. Ron didn't even turn to look at him. He was watching Hermione run off with an unreadable expression on his face and a hand over his left cheek. "Ron!" Harry snapped, as he stumbled awkwardly to his feet. "What's going on?"

Ron turned to harry almost in slow-motion, as is his mind wasn't quite caught up to the rest of the world. "She hit me…" he said in a faraway voice. "She actually hit me."

"What did you do?" Harry asked, his eyes widening as Ron's hand dropped to his side. There was the imprint of Hermione's hand, bright red against Ron's pale, freckled face. "My _god_- what did you _do?_"

"I didn't do anything!" Ron cried, and for one horrible moment Harry thought Ron was going to cry. He didn't look angry at all- just incredibly upset, and Harry wondered what on earth he could possibly have said to Hermione to make her slap him. "She had my school report, and…" He suddenly bent down and picked up a soggy piece of parchment from the ground. He brushed the snow off it and looked pained. Harry felt his heart sink. Had Hermione possibly slapped Ron because his report wasn't good enough? After all the work they'd done together? That didn't seem like a very Hermione-like thing to do, but then again, she had been acting bizarre lately. Especially around Ron. Such as the day before when she had let Ron harbour her on his lap all the way from King's Cross Station.

"Let me see," Harry said, and Ron wordlessly handed over the offending report. What was on it, however, would no sooner provoke Hermione to slap Ron than it would provoke Harry to. It was _brilliant_.

Harry looked up and gaped at his friend. "She didn't slap you because of _this_ did she?"

"No…"

"Good, because if that was the case, I'd have to slap some sense into _her_!" Harry flipped the paper over and looked at the teachers' remarks. "My God Ron, even Snape wrote something close to praise. This is so good!"

"No it _isn't,_" Ron wailed. "She hit me! I don't know why!"

"Well, what did you say?" Harry said dazedly, running his eyes over Ron's excellent marks again. It was by far the best school report Ron had ever received in all his time at Hogwarts. Harry looked up at him. "Why aren't you happy about this? You worked so hard, and it really paid off."

"Yeah, exactly, I worked so hard, and that's the best I can do!" Ron cried. He was getting angry now- his cheeks were enflamed but not just because of Hermione's slap.

"The best you can do is pretty damn good."

"No it isn't!" He was _definitely_ annoyed. "Give me a break, you _know_ that those marks aren't very good. Compared to Hermione's? Compared to _yours_?"

"Is that what you're upset about?" said Harry, confused, "you're worried that they're not as good as everyone else's?"

"No- yes! I don't _know_…"

"What did you say to Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to sound as kind and as accommodating as possible for Ron's obvious insecurities. But the truth of it was, it was annoying that his best friend couldn't see what a triumph this was. Surely he didn't truly, _truly_ believe these marks were bad, did he?

"I dunno…I said it was pathetic, that's all…I said all the work we'd done was for nothing."

Harry looked up sharply. "Those were your exact words?"

"Um, yeah, something like that."

Suddenly Harry felt like slapping Ron himself. "You utter _git_."

"What?"

"I mean it this time- Ron! How could you say something like that to her? You know what she worked just as hard as you, and she sacrificed most of her time and homework so that she could help you, and you called it _nothing_?"

"I…"

"All those hours, working with her- can you honestly say it was _nothing_?"

"No! It wasn't nothing…" Ron said lamely. Harry turned on his heel and stalked away, feeling furious. Ron _always_ did this, he never understood why Hermione did this for him, and then when she got angry, he asked Harry why! Well, this time, it was ridiculous. This time, the effort Hermione had put in was above beyond the call of friendship, and the reason why was so blindingly obvious even Fred and George were asking Harry why Hermione and Ron were still "just friends". They were both ridiculous, but Ron was being more ridiculous than usual. "Which way did she go?" Harry snapped to Ron, who was scurrying behind him, still dazed. 

"Towards the orchard, but-"

"Right!" Harry started towards the orchard. Then he paused. "You mean the orchard next to the moor?"

"Of course I do- how many bloody orchards do you think we have in our backyard?" Ron snapped, obviously frazzled by both Hermione's and Harry's consecutive displays of temper. "What's your-"

"You _prat_." Harry snapped. "Hermione doesn't know her way around that orchard. It's nearly as big as the Forbidden bloody Forest!"

Ron opened his mouth, but closed it again. Harry was right, of course. Hermione had no idea what the orchard looked like. In fact the only reason Ron could walk into it safely was because he'd been exploring it and the moor beyond since he could walk. And he still sometimes got lost.

"Has she got her wand?"

"I dunno…she didn't have it with her when she slapped me." Now Ron was looking ashamed, and fair enough too, Harry thought.

"OK…I'm going in to look for her." 

"It's the morning. The sun's out." Ron protested feebly. "She'll be fine."

Harry just glared at him. "You're a complete and utter berk, aren't you?" He patted his pocket, making sure he had his wand with him. "Right, see you later then."

"I'm coming with you!" Ron exclaimed. He looked sort of surprised when he said it, though, as though he hadn't expected to blurt it out. Harry gave his best friend a withering look.

"You'd better go inside actually. I'll find Hermione." He paused. "You see, you seem to have this thing where you don't appreciate her. Unfortunate, really, since she practically breathes in and out for you." 

Harry stomped off into the orchard, hoping that maybe this time, Ron hadn't missed the point. 

*

It was a while before Hermione calmed down enough to remember that she hardly ever ventured into the orchard and hence, had no idea how to find her way through it. The only time she had ever walked through the expansive forest had been with Ron the summer before their fourth year. The day she had arrived, he had taken her outside and they'd walked through it together and Hermione remember thinking "I'm lucky to have a friend who'll walk with me like this." Ron had gotten lost but they'd used their wands to find their way back to the house. Ron had thought it was fun. _"This was fun…I never usually get lost though."_

Well, thought Hermione, _I'll be able to find my way out of here as long as I have my wand._

Which she didn't.

"Oh, bloody _hell_." She had been so upset she'd forgotten it. It was still inside the tent that she was sharing with Ginny, Henrietta and Angelina. 

__

Don't panic, Hermione told herself sternly as her eyes involuntarily filled with tears again. _It won't be that hard to find my way back._

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing gown and looked around at her surroundings. At least she was lost in a beautiful place. The trees were thickly grown; their leafless branches criss-crossed above her, laden with snow. Weak, white winter sunlight filtered through the gaps in that curious canopy. Their air sparkled with frost, and every now and then, a winter fairy would flit across Hermione's path, glowing pale blue, rather than the usual gold. It put Hermione in mind of the poetry of Robert Frost- it was certainly something he would write about. (How did that one go again?) Hermione had always thought Ron was lucky to live in the country, where the snow was pure white rather than muddy and grey; where at night you could see every single star. She loved winter mornings and would have given her right arm to live somewhere as beautiful as Ottery St Catchpole. 

__

"He will not see me stopping here, to watch his woods fill up with snow," Hermione quoted in a whisper, as she spotted a clearing up ahead. A large tree stump occupied the clearing, an oak, Hermione deduced, as she got closer. It must have been an enormous, beautiful creature when it was living. Hermione loved oak trees. She sat herself down on the flat of the stump which curiously remained dry and untouched by snow despite the layer of white on the ground and on the branches of surrounding trees. A ring of fairies flitted away at her heavy movements, and Hermione took off her soaking slippers and brought her knees up to her chin, hiding her freezing, bare feet underneath her dressing gown. She had reacted hastily, and now it was time to think about what she had done. 

She was (ridiculously) feeling the first stirrings of shame that always followed a huge teary outburst. Her mother had told her, over and over, that she was hyper-sensitive. "Hermione, could you please calm down? you're giving me a headache. You must learn not to be so sensitive." Maybe she was. She tried to train herself not to cry so much, but it was hard. Especially hanging around with someone like Ron. He always made her cry…

The reason why was obvious, of course: because he was the only person (aside from Harry and Neville) who really seemed to _appreciate_ her and then he'd just come out with crushing remarks which proved her wrong. _"It's nothing, just nothing, and all our hard work was for nothing…"_

She realised, with a hopeless resignation, that she was so upset she couldn't even work up the energy to be furious with him. She'd spent so many hours of her life analysing her relationship with Ron from top to tail and she still had no idea. How much _did_ Ron care about her, if he did at all? She was so confused, the events of the months since Ron began dating Parvati Patil seemed to jumble around her. What on earth _were_ she and Ron to each other?

"'Ermione?"

Hermione looked up. Fleur was walking towards her, dressed to match their beautiful surroundings in a long white fur coat (_Probably made out of some class of small animal_, Hermione thought with distaste) and expensive designer boots. Her long silvery blonde hair was tied back in a loose plait, and she looked, as always, stunning.

"Hi, Fleur," Hermione said, trying to sound accommodating, though the truth of it was, she didn't want to talk to anyone right then, especially not Fleur Delacour, even if she had a new personality and had turned into a thinner, blonder, younger version of Mrs. Claus.

"I 'ope I am not intruding?"

"Not at all," Hermione answered, trying to work up a smile.

Fleur sat down next to Hermione, and, inexplicably, gave her a hug. "My dear- you look….sad?"

Hermione laughed and wiped away the last of her tears, trying hard not to imagine how ugly she must have looked next to Dlaur. "I am a bit sad," she admitted.

"_je suis desolee_…what can I do to 'elp?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, shaking her head. "There's nothing to do. It's my own fault, anyway."

"Mistakes are easy to make," said Fleur, "but sometimes, they are good for you."

It was a well meant sentiment, but not what Hermione needed right then- it had an obscure relevance at best, and it sounded like Fleur had gotten it off one of those "Thought of the Day" calendars. Hermione had long ago had the mentality that if one learned first, one would not make mistakes established in her, and abided by it. But she had made a mistake this time. One that was harder to admit than usual. But she had to admit it sometime, even if it were just in her head. She had to admit that Ron had become something else to her…and she had foolishly started to believe- to hope- that he felt the same way about her. Hadn't she?

"Is it a problem I can 'elp with?" Fleur persisted.

"No, Fleur!" Hermione said, with a tone bordering on irritable. She calmed down. "I'm sorry. It's just that- well, I'm so confused at the moment, and there really isn't anything that _anyone_ can do to help. Thanks for offering, though."

"Ooooh," Fleur gave a sigh of disappointment. Then she said, "I am sorry to intrude on you. I just want everyone to be as happy as me."

Hermione resigned herself to talking about the impending wedding for the next half an hour. "That's very sweet of you, Fleur. Don't let my bad nature intrude on your happiness though. I'm very pleased for you." 

Fleur shook her magnificent head. "I, too, am confused, 'Ermione. I do not know if I can do it."

Hermione's train of thought stopped short. If Fleur was having second thoughts, she didn't want to be in on them. It wasn't her place to impend on anyone's decision, and besides, she could say something to make it worse. 

Though, to be honest, it seemed as though Fleur was the one who doted more on Bill; one would think it would be the other way round. Although…maybe not. Bill Weasley, after all, _was_ a brave, loyal and intelligent young man who had a well playing job and- she blushed at the mere thought- looked cool enough to make any girl's pulse race. Why _shouldn't _Fleur be besotted with him?

Because she was beautiful, Hermione told herself, and it was the beautiful girl's job to keep men at arm's length. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen, that was the mission all beautiful people were charged with. Also, they would never, never, never allow themselves to be drawn to anyone who was less beautiful, wealthy, privileged, intelligent or socially apt than they were. It was the law of Being Beautiful.

"Do…what?" Hermione said finally, trying to sound casual.

"Wait until tomorrow, of course! It is all so exciting…!" Fleur's grin could have lit up a Christmas tree. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Fleur was obviously more in love with Bill than Hermione thought. "But I am confused," she continued, "Because…because…" she gestured with her hands in frustration. "I do not think I can say it in _Anglaise_…"

"Then say it in French," Hermione insisted, in French. Fleur looked positively delighted.

"Well…all right," she said, and took a deep breath. "I am not used to feeling this much." Hermione's puzzled expression prompted her to explain. "Most of my life I've been told to distance myself from people because it does not _do_ to be over-sensitive, as I am. My mother always told me not to get confused by boys. But Bill…" she shook her head dreamily, "From the moment I met Bill, he made me feel the most passionate- the most _wonderful_- feelings. Everything seems so much realer and brighter when I'm with him. I can be myself when he is around. When I'm with him, I practically don't know where I am …" She turned to Hermione, and, with an intensity that made Hermione believe her, said, "'Ermione, you cannot understand how he makes me feel! It is magic- not from a wand, from _inside…._" She shook her head with wonder, "If only you had someone like Bill who could show you how to feel this way. I want everyone to feel this way. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced…"

And Hermione suddenly realized, with astonishing clarity, that she did know someone who made her feel that way. 

It was a shame hat he would never feel that way about her.

After Fleur hugged Hermione one more time and left (she was walking up to the village to see the chapel where, in about twenty hours or so, she would be getting married) Hermione found herself crying a bit more, but they were useless tears. She couldn't think anymore. It was too exhausting. Like Fleur had said, when Hermione was with Ron, she practically didn't know where she was. She had no idea of where she stood or what the evolution of her feelings for him meant. She sat alone for quite some time, not daring to think, but crying quite a bit. That was when Harry turned up to take her back to the Burrow.

"Thank _god_, I hoped you'd only come this far. You're lucky I came after you, you could have been lost in here all day." He reached down a hand and lifted her to her feet. Then he gave her a slightly awkward hug. "You all right?" he said shyly.

Hermione nodded, running a hand over her eyes. "Yes, just being stupid I suppose."

"Don't be daft," Harry said kindly. "We all want to slap Ron sometimes."

Hermione coloured. "He…told you?" she squeaked.

"Well, it was hard for me not to notice, with a bloody great hand print on his face, right?" Harry shook his head. "Don't worry though, he deserved it. He's being an idiot."

"Too right," Hermione mumbled before she could stop herself. Harry grinned. "Anyway," Hermione said quickly, "That's not very nice. Are you two fighting again?"

"I think we are," Harry said, "it's entirely my fault this time, but don't lets give him that impression." He balanced his wand on the palm of his hand. "_Point me_," he whispered, and the wand spun in the direction of the Burrow. "Come on," Harry said, taking her by the arm, gently. 

Ron was waiting for them both outside the house. Hermione was struck by how the wand in Harry's palm was pointing directly at him. He looked worried but upon seeing them approach, nodded and disappeared into the house. Harry gave a disparaging sigh and said something unflattering, but Hermione was barely listening. "Point me" Harry had said, and the wand had pointed to Ron. Pure magic.

__

Funny, thought Hermione, _how all roads lead to Ron._


	12. Twelve

__

A/N: Mmmm…reviews. Thanks to everyone who left one. I honestly didn't think this piece of crap would elicit so much attention. Whee, unexpected praise! To one reviewer, who mentioned my very, very basic French- I learnt it in year seven as well! Except we used a book called Arc-en-ciel. It's all I can do to remember how to say "Hello, my name is Fleur." To another reader, who pointed out (very graciously) the fact that Ron and Hermione seem to be having one too many fights, THANK YOU! I was waiting for someone to pick up one of the many, many shite things about this fic. And to another reader, who accused me of using the phrase "Oh my GOD!" because it was on "Friends", um…no I didn't? "Friends" didn't invent the phrase, you know. Weird.  
Anyway, thanks again. It'll end soon, I promise. We've just got to get past the wedding. 

*

"First bloody Hermione, then bloody Harry," Ron mumbled, watching Harry stalk off into the orchard. "Why is everyone on _my_ case today?"

His sinking heart told him he knew the answer. Something was aching inside of him far more than his injured face. God, but she could hit! No wonder Malfoy had been scared of Hermione ever since she hit him in third year. Ron was scared too.

He'd said the wrong thing again. This time, Ron doubted she'd follow him to the lake and smile at him. This time, Ron doubted if she would make everything all better by forgiving him. He didn't deserve it, of course, but completely aside from that, he was sure he'd hurt her feelings this time, way beyond anything he'd done while dating Parvati, which was amazing, because some of the things he'd done then would rival Crabbe's last potions assignment in stupidity.

How _had_ he said what he said? _It's nothing, just nothing, and all our hard work was for nothing._

"Oh, _god_…" Ron felt like throwing up. There was that guilty feeling again, burning a hole in the bottom of his stomach and sucking out all his insides. But it was a worse feeling than before, this time. He knew why.

He'd changed for Hermione, and they'd fixed everything, and everything may have been different, but it was better, and then yesterday, on the way to the Burrow, something else had changed too. The fact that Hermione was more than Just a Friend didn't bother him anymore. In fact, the fact that Hermione was more than Just a Friend was positively appealing. In _fact_, Hermione's brand new More-Than-Just-A-Friend status as so appealing he would have been willing to admit it to her. 

Not now, though.

"Hello, I'm Ron Weasley, World's Biggest Git," Ron muttered savagely as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror in the front hall. Tired of standing in the snow, he'd gone inside with the intention of sitting in front of the fire, having a huge long think, and working out what he was going to say. What was it Hermione always told him? "Write it down, Ron. It clears the head." That's what he'd do. He'd write it down.

The prospect of handing Hermione a letter made his heart sink even more. A flimsy piece of parchment to repair the damage he'd done? The same kind of damage he'd caused to their precious friendships before? 

"Furthermore to being the World's Biggest Git, I have this uncanny ability to behave like I was born without a brain. Re-sodding-markable, isn't it?" Ron threw himself down on the couch, fighting the urge to bite the cushions. No doubt his mother would throw him out- she'd been cleaning the house from top-to-tail in anticipation of a visit from relatives. No sooner had he put his head in his hands and prepared himself for a really long think, however, than the fireplace spewed forth with green fire, spraying Ron with ash. The blast threw Ron back over the couch, his legs flipping over his head, and he landed in a heap onto the floor.

"_Ow!_"

"G'day, Ron!"

"Ron, what are you doing on the floor, Ron?"

"Ron- you've ashes on your pants!"

"Ooh, well, if it isn't Ron Weasley!" Ron was hoisted to his feet, coughing wildly, and blinking ashes out of his eyes. He opened them and immediately wished he could close them again. It was his Aunt Mildred, moustache and all. She kissed him on both cheeks. "Molly, dear?"

"Mildred!" His mother rushed out to meet her sister. They hugged, and immediately launched into a conversation about Ron's height.

"Now, hasn't he grown? I wouldn't have recognised him!"

"Certainly has. I remember bringing him home from the hospital, and here he is now, a young man!"

"Och! Isn't that the way, Molly?"

Uncle Machivellia was a small man with a small moustache and brown hair, who tended to fade into the background. He murmured a hello to Ron and then escaped to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. His offspring, to Ron's chagrin, did not follow suit. He was usually spared the torture of seeing his cousins by the fact that they lived in Australia, and generally only managed to visit once every two or three years, meeting up at funerals or weddings- Ron silently cursed Bill for falling in love. Michael, who was the oldest at thirteen, folded his arms and looked at Ron, an expectant expression on his sunburnt face.

"Yes?' said Ron, wiping ash off his nose.

"Snow. We want to see some snow."

"Go outside, there's lots of it." Ron said narkily, throwing himself back down on the couch. The four of them rushed outside, exclaiming in delight at the white covered ground. Ron felt so exhausted he oucnd't even work up a commiserating/amused "Tuh! Australians…" type of remark. (As an Englishman, he reserved his right to make those kinds of comments.) "Ron!" his mother snapped, and Ron leapt to his feet, startled. "Ron! Go outside and entertain your cousins!"

"Mu-uum…"

"I won't hear it Ron Weasley! And another thing! Make sure they don't mess up Percy's room- I want it nice for him when he comes home."

Ron couldn't help wrinkling his nose in disgust. Perfect Percy had gone to live in London at the beginning of the year. There had been a fight with his father, over the Ministry, and its denial over You-Know-Who's return. Percy remained in contact with them of course, but it was usually only a smug letter telling them that the Ministry had thwarted more Death Eater activity up in the mountains, or that the Dementors had undergone special reprogramming, so that they would remain loyal to the Ministry at whatever cost. Ron had forgotten about Percy, and his non-appearance. Surely, though, he wouldn't miss the wedding…?

Ron went outside and grudgingly held a snowball fight with his cousins- "It's like cold wet sand!" they kept on exclaiming, in delight- though his mind was in the orchard, with Harry and Hermione. What on _earth_ were they doing? Having one of their grown-up conversations? They weren't talking about _him_ were they? _Of course they are_, he thought, miserably, _think about what you said to her this morning, gimp_. He deserved all he got. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if they came back with a mutual agreement not to talk to him. 

"Oy, watch it, Ron!" yelled Malachy as a snowball hit him in the side of the head. Ron's ear stung with the cold, but he felt that he deserved it. "Think I'll go inside," he murmured, shaking a clod of snow out of his ear, and leaving his cousins to enjoy the snow on their own. He didn't stay inside for very long though. Cousin Leroy had arrived- an insufferable youth on his father's' side with a penchant for talking about himself, and no other penchants to speak of. Leroy fancied himself somewhat of a bad-boy, because he owned a Muggle car and had learnt to drive it, which, obviously, didn't impress Ron in the slightest. His girlfriend- a thin, blonde, bubbly creature- tittered away while Leroy grabbed Ron and ruffled his hair.

"Hey, Ron, how's my favorite cousin?"

"I don't know, how is he?"

"Durrrr," Leroy drawled, as if Ron were stupid, "I meant _you_, you dork."

"Really? If I really am your favourite cousin, would you please walk off a bridge for me?" Ron mumbled. Leroy guffawed loudly, and his girlfriend shrieked, and Ron ducked out of Leroy's embrace before he could figure out that Ron was serious. He ran into Ginny before he got to the front door, who grabbed his arm and dug her nails in. "Ron! Where are you going?"

"Outside- got to get outside-"

"Oh no you don't! Don't leave me with Aunt Mildred- she's got this horrible breath and she always tells me how-"

"Ginny!" Aunt Mildred bore down on the two of the like a giant floral hippo. "Well, well, well! Still quite the young man, aren't you? When on earth are you going to develop into a woman?" She grabbed Ginny around the waist and poked her with a fat finger. "No breasts! Still as flat as a ten year old boy!" Ginny looked like she was about to burst into tears. Ron fled, feeling about as embarrassed as Ginny looked. Why did aunts always have to say the word _breasts_? He made it to the back door, just escaping Uncle Machivellia, who started to ask him about school. "Here's my report! See for yourself! Bye!" Ron made a mad dash for it and threw himself out the back door, slamming it behind him. He leant against it, feeling like the man who had just escaped gunfire, barbed wire, and rabid dogs to get out of prison. Unfortunately, at that moment, Harry and Hermione emerged from the orchard- arm in arm. 

Ron felt such a pang as he saw them that he gasped. Confused, for a moment or two, he stared helplessly at them. Arm in arm? What did that mean? It certainly wasn't good news for him, that was for bloody certain. Harry and Hermione were friends, always had been- he didn't think anything romantic would be going on between them for a second. But they were so _close_…surely their hatred against himself would be fortified if they bonded together? As they drew closer, he gave them a curt nod and escape back inside, feeling, unsurprisingly, like the man who escaped prison through gunfire, barbed wire and rabid dogs, only to get hit by a bus. He stared unconsciously at the back door he had slammed behind himself for a moment or two. Should he stay and talk to them? No, that was stupid, a much more sensible plan of action would be to go upstairs and hang himself. Only then did he realize that loud voices were coming from the living room.

He turned just as the back door opened and Harry and Hermione came in. Ron forced himself not to look around and walked ahead of them, into the kitchen, where his cousins were sitting around the table in silence, embarrasedly listening to the row in the living room.

"What's going on?" Ron asked.

Grandpa Polonius, who had obviously arrived while Ron had been outside, spat onto the ground. "Something's up with yer brother."

"Which one?"

"I dunno, the tall one."

"Which _one_?"

Grandma Peony spoke up. "He means young Perry, dear. The one with the lisp."

"_Percy?_" With a feeling of doom, Ron stalked into the living room. He could hear Harry and Hermione hurry after him. The scene that greeted their eyes was upsetting, to say the least. Mrs. Weasley was on her knees, fair screaming into the fire. Bill stood above her, staring at the ceiling with his arms folded- which he always did when things turned into a row. Fred and George were slumped on the couch. Ginny was holding Charlie's hand, nearly in tears, as they stood behind the twins. His dad was sitting on the mismatched armchair, his head in his hands. And Percy- well, Percy's head was in the fire. And it was not delivering good news.

"I'm sorry mother," it said, obviously not sorry at all. "Completely aside from that, it would be unforgivable if I was to take time off work in the next few days, things are terribly busy. We're getting a lot of things done." Ron's heart began to pound as he inferred what he could from the smug statement. Did that mean..? Percy wasn't going to…? "Who's that who just walked in?" said Percy's head.

Ron managed to find his voice. "It's me….'s me Ron, Perce…"

"Ah, Ron. You might as well know now. I'm not coming to the wedding."

Ron's voice sounded oddly hoarse when he answered. "Because of the Ministry."

"Because of lots of things, actually. You wouldn't understand."

Ron's hands clenched. "I'm sure I wouldn't, Perce. I don't understand you, for a start." His father was looking at him. So was Bill. 

"No need to get persnickety, Ron." Percy's voice was cold. "I just don't feel it would be _right_, for me, as such a senior member of the Ministry, to be associating with…well…"

"Your family?" Ron was heavily sarcastic. "Nah, you're right. We wouldn't want that. Not your horrid little lower-class family from the country, eh, Perce? Not when you're knocking around with big-wigs like Lucius Malfoy, right? Not when we've got The Harry Potter staying with us, as well as our Muggle-born mates." Colin Creevey and Lee Jordan, who were standing awkwardly in the corner with Henrietta and Angelina, both shifted uncomfortably. Ron was sure Hermione was wearing a similar expression to theirs.

"If you're going to be immature about this…"

"Immature? _Immature?"_ Ron could barely contain his rage. His voice was shaking. So were his hands. "Jesus _Christ_, Percy! Our eldest brother is getting _married_, for God's sake, and you want to play Let's-Be-Better-Than-My-Family-because-I'm-In-Denial, or haven't you and your ever so smart Ministry friends figured it out yet? This is _not_ the time to start disowning the rest of us!"

"I'm not disowning anyone."

"What a shame!" Ron snapped, "because personally, I'd love a good disowning right about bow. How about it, guys?" he swiveled around to the rest of his family. "Anyone up for a good disowning?" Fred gave George a nudge. They raised their hands. "Brilliant!" shouted Ron, "This is what I call family bonding!"

"Ron…" Ginny whispered. "Oh please don't, Ron…"

"If that's the way you feel about it, Ron," Percy started, in a nonchalant tone. His voice was shaking too, though. Ron rounded on the fireplace and raised his voice even louder.

"Don't you _dare_ make it out to be my fault, Percy. It was your decision to go to London, _your_ decision to side with Fudge, and it's _your_ decision now- you can come to the wedding and stay part of our lives."

"And if I don't?" 

"Then I don't care," Ron said bitterly. "Get lost, I suppose. Go and get married to a Death Eater. Go and sit in your stupid flat and pretend everything's all right, and go and remind yourself that you've worked so hard for all you've got. A house, a job, loads of money- but no family. Personally, I know what I'd rather have! I guess-" he tried to calm down. "I guess that's what makes me a Weasley."

"Good fer you, son!" shouted Grandpa Polonius from the kitchen. 

Percy sneered- an odd thing to see on his face, because, as far as Ron knew, Percy had never sneered in his life. "A trite sentiment, Ron, though not surprising. You Hogwarts students go around spouting your ridiculous dogma about what you think is right. There is no right and wrong, only power- and those too weak to seek it. Dumbledore's a fool, and so is anyone who chooses to believe him." 

A lot of things happened at once. Ron launched himself at the fire, Harry and Hermione launched themselves at Ron, at the same time deftly blocking Fred and George, who had leapt to their feet, obviously with the same intention as Ron. Ginny burst into tears- Charlie looked like he was close too. Ron was screaming- he would never remember what, but he was screaming loud enough to make his throat bleed, things he probably shouldn't have said in front of his mother, but things, nonetheless, he felt should be said.

"YOU SELFISH SON OF A BITCH, GO TO HELL, YOU WORHTLESS PIECE OF SH-"

Ron was bundled outside by Harry and Hermione, where he fell into the snow unceremoniously. The flow of abuse stopped abruptly, and Ron was left trying to catch his breath. The other two both fell by his side immediately. "Ron?"

"God _dammit_…" Ron slowly got to his feet, his fingers going numb from the cold. "Oh, man…oh that was…."

"Terrible," Hermione said. She was shaking her head, looking as though she might cry. "I can't believe it, it's just so…" Inside, the row was still raging. Ron's father's voice joined his mother's- and it took a _lot_ to get Arthur Weasley as angry as he sounded. Ron pushed back his hair, feeling very suffocated, suddenly. He rolled back his sleeves, and would have taken off his shoes if he didn't know how cold the ground was. He felt like he'd just thrown up or something. A veritable smorgasbord of emotions had just spewed forth from him and now he was left feeling empty, and unsatisfied. Ron wasn't even left asking the usual questions, "how can Percy _do_ this to us?", "Why on earth did you stop me?", "What the hell is wrong with him?". Instead, he just felt desolate. Sad.

But he shouldn't have felt like that, should he? He and Percy had always been at loggerheads with each other, surely it should be a delight to disown him?

"I really…_have_ changed." Ron mumbled, feeling unsteady on his feet. There was too much to think about and he suddenly wanted the world to stop so he could sit down and figure it out. Harry and Hermione were watching him with anxious expressions. He couldn't say anything to them now, not now. His ignoble display in the living room had surely confirmed their worst thoughts: Ron was an insensitive brute. (But of course, they already knew that from the mistakes he kept on making. Only an insensitive brute would tell Hermione that all that work she'd put in for him was "nothing." Nothing? Hah!)

"Ron?" Hermione was making warm, reassuring circles on his back with her hand. "Say something."

Ron would have liked to hug her, then. Ron _needed_ a hug, then- some form of physical reassurance would be nice, so maybe he could ground his thoughts and get some bearings. But no- he and Hermione didn't hug. Shouldn't hug. "Think I should be…by myself…" he mumbled, gently removing her hand from his waist. He looked at Harry, who also reached out his hand. 

"You're all right? Yeah?" he asked, giving Ron and gentle slap on his forearm.

Ron nodded, slowly. "Yeah, course. Just need to think."

*

He went to the orchard of course. And he didn't think, either. 

He could barely _feel_. It was as though during the scene in the living room he'd gotten rid of all his emotions. He was numb. Last week Percy had been Percy- pompous, misguided, bumbling, but still his brother. Now, Ron barely recognised the face that had been in the fire, with its alien sneer and cold voice. And insulting Dumbledore! Percy would have sooner walked through London naked than insult Dumbledore. The old Percy, anyway- what had happened to his brother? An odd shiver passed through Ron as he remembered what Percy had said. _There is no right and wrong, only power, and those too weak to seek it…_ Was it Ron's imagination, or had he heard the phrase used somewhere before? (A flash of sitting in the hospital wing, in first year, Harry wide-eyed in the bed, Ron's hands shaking, Hermione frightened by just an account of what had happened she had had to grab his arm and squeeze it until her nails dug in. "And then, Voldemort said-" Harry grinned as Ron interrupted suddenly. "Will you _stop_ saying his name? Please?") 

Whenever Percy and Ron had fought, Ron would always end up seething with anger for hours afterward. Now Ron thought he would barely be able to work up the energy to stomp his foot, or even swear about Percy. It seemed to Ron that in doing so, he would be seething about a total stranger. The entire situation felt unworthy of the energy. He remembered, suddenly, being lectured by Bill while they were visiting him in Egypt. Percy had just gotten the letter saying he was going to be Head Boy and behaving insufferably, and they'd just had a huge argument at the bottom of the Sphinx. Bill had had to sit Ron down underneath a shady tree and attempt to calm him down, under his mother's instructions. "Listen Ron," Bill had said, staring out into the shimmering sand, "you'll get older, and I'm not saying you should stop getting angry, but you've _got_ to learn to control your temper. You can't be having tantrums like that for the rest of your life. You'll grow up without realizing it." Ron had been fuming. "But Percy is _such_ a-" 

Bill had held up a hand. "I don't care what Percy is. This is about _you_. One day, you'll find you just don't want to expend the energy throwing a fit, because you'll know it's not worth it. _Then_ you'll know that you've grown up."

"Grow up," people were constantly telling him. "Use your brains. Stop being so immature." Despite the fact that he was in the depths of the orchard, Ron could still hear faint yells coming from the Burrow. And suddenly, he grinned. Despite having inherited his father's looks, he had definitely got his mother's temper. But maybe- _maybe_- like Bill had said, maybe he had grown up. Wasn't that what Bill had done? He had managed to curb the infamous Weasley temper, and there was barely anyone Ron respected more on the planet. Professor Trelawney, his less-than-able Divinations teacher, was always saying the everything happened for a reason. And though he was loathe to apply anything Professor Trelawney told him to real life, he wondered if it could have been true. Maybe, everything-Parvati Patil, fighting with his friends, the endless hours of working, and getting into scrape after scrape with Hermione- maybe it was all part of growing up?

And once again, Ron found himself thinking it, except this time it came with crystal clarity, so much that Ron found himself sucking in a deep breath. 

__

I really have changed.

The reason why could hardly be denied- Hermione. She was the driving force behind all his actions for the past few weeks. Harry's words to him that morning snapped back with the same stinging effect they'd had when he said them- "You seem to have this thing where you don't appreciate her. Unfortunate, really, since she practically breathes in and out for you." With an effort, Ron tried to ignore the guilt that sizzled away inside of him and focus on what Harry could have meant. (Despite his worst fears, Ron wasn't stupid. He knew as well as the next person that Hermione had gone above and beyond her obligation to him as a friend.) All Ron had had to do was bellow, "Hermione! Come here, I need you!" and she would come running. "What's up? Oh, you're not _still _stuck on question seven, are you?" And Ron would say, "_No_…yes." And she would giggle and together they would go through it. And sometimes, Ron would get the answer before her. (The irony wasn't lost on him- that, for the past weeks or so, he had been admitting out loud to the entire Gryffindor tower what he had been thinking in his head, and in his heart. _Hermione, come here, I need you!)_ And yet obviously he had missed something. He had gotten no inkling that Hermione _breathed in and out_ for him. But quite clearly…he had _missed_ something. And he didn't intend to go on missing it, so he knew that before he did anything else, he had to fix the damage he done this morning. 

He wrote it down, eventually. Happening to have a spare parchment and quill in his pocket, he leant on the old oak stump and wrote down everything he wanted to say to Hermione. (Actually, that wasn't true, there were lots more things he wanted to say to her, but the fact of it was he could barely admit them to himself.) Which was why around three o'clock that day found Ron timidly venturing into the girl's tent, clutching the crumpled parchment in his hand, which had taken him the best part of a day to write. 

Hermione was sitting at the dresser near her bed, brushing her hair. She looked up as he came in, and then got to her feet. "You okay, Ron?" she asked, going to him at once.

Ron pushed her arms down when she raised them for a hug. The hurt in her eyes was hard to miss, even though she whirled around quickly and picked up her hairbrush again. (It wasn't as though he didn't want to hug her- _god!_ Of course he wanted to hug her! He could have held her in his arms for the rest of his life, if she would let him. But he couldn't let her. He didn't deserve it, of course, not after what he had done to her this morning. She deserved an apology, first.) Ron cleared his throat, and read from the crumpled parchment in his hand. 

"Dear Hermione," he read, in a voice still hoarse from the morning's row. She tore her eyes away from her reflection in the mirror at once, staring at him in what could only be bewilderment. Ron continued. "You must be tired of hearing it now, but I'm sorry. I know what I did wrong this morning and I know that realising that it was wrong too late is also another thing I've done wrong. Even another thing I've done wrong is not appreciate you properly- or at least, not let you know just how much I appreciate you." He chanced a glance at her. She was staring into the mirror again, brushing her hair, with quick, harsh strokes, ripping the ends. "The reason," and here Ron had to clear his throat again, "the reason I never told you how much I appreciate you is because I never thought I would be able to put it into words. You've done more for me than anyone else I've known ever has in the time I've been alive and no amount of thanking you will justify it. You…" he had to stop for a moment as he read the next words on the page. Had he really written it? God, he couldn't say it. It was too full on. He wasn't ready to admit it, was he? "You…" he looked up at her again, banging a brush through he ends of her hair, staring resolutely ahead, her back straight and strong, her hands working roughly through the knots. He wanted to look at her face, into her eyes. "Hermione," Ron said, in a voice he knew cracked pathetically, and sounded about as persuasive as the bleat of a lamb. But something in his tone must have prompted her to turn around and look at him, because she did. Ron wanted nothing more right then than to take her in his arms and…

__

And WHAT, Ron Weasley?

He didn't know. He couldn't read anymore. "Let me," he said, striding over to her.

"Ron- what-?" Hermione gasped as he took the hairbrush from her hand. Her hair was thicker than Ron expected, and knottier, but surely tearing a hairbrush through it wasn't going to do any good. He took a clump of hair (gently) in his hand and then, slowly, gently, pulled the teeth of the brush through it. 

"Ron, what are you _doing_?" Hermione made a move to take the brush from him, and he pulled it out of her reach.

"I'm brushing your hair."

"Oh please…" Hermione said, though she was trembling. Ron could feel the heat emanating from her shoulders and the back of her graceful neck. "Since when do you care about my _hair_?" The question was jovial, but her voice shook beneath it. Ron suddenly found himself fighting the desperate urge to lean down and bury his face into her neck. 

"I care about all of you," he said evenly. For a moment or two, Ron thought she was going to leap up and slap him again. But she didn't. She just let out a sigh, although she was far from relaxed. Her neck stood rigidly and her shoulders were squared. There was a silence for a while, but Ron felt as though the world was moving around them. (Was it his imagination, or was Hermione breathing rather heavily? Or maybe it was his breathing- his heart was pounding like he'd just run a marathon, after all.) Her hair crinkled beneath his fingers as he gently brushed through the knots at the ends and then worked his way up closer to her scalp. (Ron rarely had cause to use the word beautiful, so why did it keep on jumping into his head when their eyes met in the mirror?) And as the seconds ticked by, Ron found himself thinking, "I wish I could…." 

__

Could WHAT?! Just do it, whatever you're thinking, do it…!

"Ron…" Hermione's voice was still shaky. Their eyes met in the mirror again. Why, she looked positively scared. (My fault, Ron reminded himself miserably, for being an insensitive brute…) "Why do we…"

"Yes?"

"Why do we…all the time, when we fight…why do we do it to each other?"

"What?"

"I mean…it makes me miserable." Ron couldn't think how much it must have cost her to say that. They'd never said it to each other, though they both knew it. The fighting made them miserable.

"It makes me miserable, too," Ron said, eager to match her humbleness. Their eyes hadn't left each other's gaze and _god_, Ron felt as though looking away would blind him.

"So why?"

__

Because no one gets to me as much as you do, because no one makes me feel as much as you do, because whenever you walk into a room so many feelings run through my head that I just pick the angriest one to be simple, because I think I'd die if you stopped noticing me…God, her gaze was burning! Ron's hands trembled, hovering around her neck. He was brushing the underneath of her hair, and she practically shivered everytime his fingers graced her hairline. "If I knew, I'd stop whatever I was doing wrong immediately, and I'd change until we'd never have to do it again."

"Oh, Ron…" and now her voice was infused with such tenderness Ron wondered if he'd be able to go another second without doing _something_…"Ron, it's not _just_ your fault."

"It is."

"Don't be stupid- oh, _god_…"

"I told you I was stupid!"

"Ron!" Her voice cracked too- for one horrifying moment, Ron as sure she'd burst into tears. Their gaze had been broken, and she was looking down at the wooden dresser. Ron abandoned the hairbrush and took her by the shoulders. "God!" Her voice sounded frustrated and muffled. "Why do you always _do_ this?"

"What?"

"Make me cry!"

Ron's heart fairly crumpled when she said that. A hideously shameful groan escaped him, which was enough to prompt Hermione to throw her head back and look at him again. Her eyes were filled with tears. Ron wanted to die, and he thought of that day by the lake, when Hermione had followed him and forgave him, and…

"I always do that?"

"What?"

"Make you cry?" He suddenly reached his hand around and wiped at a tear that had rolled down her cheek. Her breath tickled his hand. "I'm responsible for this?"

"Oh, Ron…yes, sometimes, you are."

Ron managed a shaky laugh. "And here's me thinking Percy deserved no friends." He knew he should have drawn back, taken his hands off her. But he couldn't, not now. He would no more have been able to take his hands off her delicate shoulders than he would have been able to look away from her face, though, as it happened, his heart was practically breaking to watch the tears snake their miserable path down her cheek. And _he_ was responsible for it?! This was the girl…yes, he could think it, at least- the girl he cared about more than…any other girl- and _he_ was the one making her cry! It was ridiculous. Laughable. Pathetic. He couldn't even make her happy as a friend. In fact, he hadn't even known how miserable he made her. If only…if only he could put his arms around her then. if only that would make it al better. And why not? Hermione had put her arm around him that day on the lake, and his broken heart had seemed like it was never broken in the first place. 

Without even thinking or realizing it, his arms had slid around, in the silence that had followed what he'd last said. He leant down, resting on her shoulders, as his arms encircled her. Around her clavicle, the area just below her neck, hugging her upper arms to her sides. She had closed her eyes- her breath seemed to be barely perceptible. And suddenly Ron had leant down- not to bury his face in her neck, though God knew he wanted to. But he leant his cheek against the side of her head, and they seemed to fit, perfectly. His lips were less than a millimeter away from the top of her ear. The seconds ticked by.

"Things…are changing," Ron whispered finally. His mouth was tingling. "And I think…I think that…this whole thing with Percy made me realise something." He took a deep breath and prepared himself. "Things are getting more and more dangerous- especially for us- and if…if we were fighting…and if something happened while we were fighting…I wouldn't be able to stand it. Voldemort is-" he broke off, feeling dizzy. He'd said it! He said the name! And it wasn't even that bad. In fact, it made him feel braver. "_Voldemort _ is…he's just like Dumbledore said, famous for spreading conflict, and I think….just like Dumbledore said…that now is the worst time for us to be arguing, Not just because we need to stick together, but because I'm so scared of losing you or Harry that something could happen while we weren't speaking and then it would all be over and the last thing we would have said to each other would be something nasty." The sentences tumbled out in a rush- Hermione had placed her hand on his arm and her eyes were dark with tears. "Something nasty which- in my case at least- isn't a true mark of…of how I feel." He exhaled. 'So that's why I think…we should stop fighting. I know that it's rich coming form me- I'm the one who starts everything of course." Hermione gave a tearful laugh. Ron smiled and wiped the tears from her face. "But I want you to know that no matter what I yell at you in the throes of anger, all I have for you, Hermione Granger, and all I ever will have, is…" All of a sudden, the words stuck in his throat. What was he thinking? What was he about to _say_…? "Is…" he stammered. Maybe he didn't need to say anything. He could lean down, turn her face towards his, and…

"Ron…?" Hermione whispered. And, just after Ron realised that he couldn't do it, the tent flapped open. Ron whirled away from Hermione within the second, his heart pounding, his hands sweaty. Suddenly it felt like a spell had been broken, reminiscent of the feeling that he had when he was coming out of the Imperius curse. He stared wildly at Hermione, who had leapt to her feet. Had he _really_ been about to say what he thought he was going to say? Or do what he…he _wanted_ to do?

It was Ginny at the flap of the tent, of course. "Oh, Ron! Here you are!" Her red-rimmed eyes indicated she'd been crying, but she was smiling anyway. The reason why followed her into the tent, with his hand on her back. 

"Harry," Ron croaked, far too distracted to notice that he was he touching his precious little sister. "Ginny- is everything…?" She nodded and went to her brother for a hug. 

"They stopped fighting an hour or so after you left. Percy says he still won't come, and he also said horrible stuff about you- oh _Ronnie_…" She was tearful again, into his shoulder. "Oh, you were so _brave_, I couldn't believe some of the things you were saying. But why is he doing this? Why won't he come to the wedding? He's so _different_…"

"I know," Ron said, running a brotherly hand down her hair. "Things change, Ginny, and they're going to keep on changing. But you know what? Some of it's not all bad." He chanced a glance at Hermione. _Some changes aren't all bad._ So why had he chickened out at the last moment?

"I know," Ginny said, wiping her tears away. They shared a rueful smile. Things were going to be very different in their house from now on. But it was nice to know that they had each other. "Come on, Bill wants you inside. He's got a really important announcement about the wedding."

Harry tapped Ron's arm as they passed, and gave him a questioning grin, that was clearly asking, _We okay?_ Ron grinned back. Things were always okay with Harry, and he hoped his best friend knew that as he gave him a hearty slap on the back. It was Hermione with whom things were changing…She followed behind Ron as they made their way up to the house, and her silence as Harry and Ginny talked away in front of them practically killed Ron.

Later on, he would wonder if he had left the letter to her on her dressing table on purpose.


	13. Thirteen

When Hermione's parents had taken her to Paris, her mother had made her walk all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower with her, depite the fact that they were both foot-sore form shopping all day, and despite the fact that Mrs. Granger knew perfectly well that Hermione was terrified of heights. Mr. granger had waited for them at the bottom- he had had enough of shopping with the girls all day, and was feeling, for the first time in an age, the need for a stiff pint in a smoky, dank pub. His refusal to trek up the famous monument hadn't phased Mrs. Granger in the slightest. "Oh well- come on, Hermione we'll go." And despite Hermione's protestations, they had gone, all the way up to the top, Hermione's feet aching like they never had before, and Mrs. Granger depressingly energetic about it. Hermione's nausea had grown to a peak by the time they reached the top- so dizzy and travel sore and hungry and thirsty was she that when they got to the top and went to the viewing window she felt as though the tower would topple over. "Mum," she had croaked. "Mum, I'm not well."

"Nonsense, Hermione, don't be difficult. Come and look at the lights, they'll make you feel better."

Obediently, Hermione had gone to look at the lights of Paris below them, but they danced around like fireflies, and made Hermione feel worse. "Come on, Hermione, all the way up to the window." Hermione had obeyed, to her own detriment. The gusty wind at the top of the tower gave Hermione the sure, horrifying idea that she was going to fall completely out of the tower and be dashed to pieces on the street below. "Mum!" she had screamed, lurching from side to side, until she collapsed, and they had to pay two Francs each to take the lift down. Hermione had been sick that night- her least favourite activity because it entailed vomiting and having a headache.

But before that, before the dizziness had quite stopped, just as her feet touched the ground, Hermione had felt an irrepressible longing, and it was all she could do not to turn and dash back up the tower. For a split second, she had teetered on life and death, hovered between agony and ecstasy, a life changing event or just another minute in her life. The feeling had stuck in her memory because she had never been able to recreate it, not even when she was flying high on Buckbeak's back around the school, not even when she whizzed around the Quidditch pitch on Harry's broomstick- those activities were adventures, magic spells, cleverness, and even when she had been on Buckbeak's back, hugging Harry round the middle, she _knew_ that things would turn out all right. That night on the Eiffel tower, it hadn't been her brain screaming, but her heart. And that was an entirely different matter. 

The feeling Hermione had as she followed Ron out of the tent was similar to her feelings on that night in France, that terrible mix of nausea and hopeless longing that turned her legs to jelly and her brain to mush. Her heart was aching for something, an ache which was at once terrible and beautiful. Ron's touch was burning on her cheek and around her clavicle as though his arms had branded her. At the same time, the back of her neck was tingling with the touch of his phantom fingertips. She was terrified, and yet, in his arms, had felt so safe; she was smitten and yet, instinctively drew away. The ambivalence left her feeling deflated. So did the nonchalance with which Ron was acting. She watched him up ahead with Harry, as they joking shoved each other around. Didn't those past few moments in the tent mean _anything_ to him? All that he'd said? That letter he'd written? Here was she, battling the urge to either leap at Ron and throw her arms around him and never let go, or turning around and running off into the white countryside, and he was acting like _nothing had happened._

"If he's calling the wedding off," Ginny was saying seriously, as they reached the door, "I'm going to kill Percy."

"What if he _does_ call the wedding off, but not because of Percy?" harry suggested.

"Then I'll kill him anyway. I mean it," she added as Harry started to laugh. They went inside, and Bill was sitting in the armchair that didn't match the sofa, onto which Fred, George and Charlie had already piled themselves. Charlie, whom Hermione had long ago dubbed "the Cheerful Sibling" was looking grave. So were Fred and George, which was odd enough. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing by watching. Fleur was sitting tearfully on the arm of Bill's chair. When Hermione and the others came in, she got to her feet at once, ran over to Hermione, and sobbed noisily into Hermione's hair. "There, there," Hermione managed awkwardly, aware that Ron was looking at her. _Tough_, she thought, _I'm not even going to look at him until he decided what on earth he wants from me._

Of course, there was the small problem of what Hermione wanted from him.

"You 'ave 'eard?' Fleur sobbed, giving Hermione two wet kisses on both sides of her face. "It is too, too terrible!"

"I know," Hermione said heavily. She meant it too. What had happened in the Weasley's living room that morning had shaken her to the core. She had always viewed the Weasleys as an extremely tight-knit bunch that could only be broken apart by some class of evil, all powerful force. Apparently the Weasley until had met their match in Cornelius Fudge. He certainly seemed to have gotten to Percy. Everyone knew that the Minister of magic did not take kindly to Dumbledore anymore, since Fudge refused to believe that Voldemort was back, but Hermione thought that somehow, Percy was smarter than that. Obviously she had been wrong. Some of the things that Percy had said had made her shudder, and the expression on his face had been reminiscent of Draco Malfoy's consistent sneer. 

Bill stood up then, and cleared his throat. His announcement turned out not to be, as Ginny feared, a cancellation, but a change to the wedding party. Charlie, who was his original best man, would now be joined by Ron, Fred and George at the altar. His best _men_. "I want my brothers by my side," he said grimly. Fleur nodded along with everything he said. When Bill had finished talking and sat down (Fred, George and Ron sat with stunned faces), Fleur said, "I 'ave also come to a decision. In light of recent events, I would like to invite Ginny, Angelina, 'Ermione and 'Enrietta to be my bridesmaids, along with Gabrielle." She beamed, waiting for their applause. 

"Wow!" Hermione said, when she could breathe again, "Fleur, that's- I don't know what to say!"

"Th-thank you," Ginny said, quickly. Hermione nodded fervently.

"Um…" Angelina said shyly, "Um, I didn't bring a dress, or anything."

"Not to worry," said Fleur triumphantly, and then proceeded to tell the girls what they would be doing for the next six hours, the objective of those hours being to fit all the girls with the same bridesmaids dresses as Gabrielle Delacour. If Hermione had known she would be Floo-powdering to Paris during her stay at the Weasley's abode, she certainly would have brought some more decent clothing. As it happened, she only had her jeans and her sweaters and felt more than a little out of place as she stood in a very expensive designer bridal boutique in Paris wearing the sneakers that she'd had since she was twelve and the jeans that she'd visited her grandparent's farm in, all those years ago. In fact the only people that looked like they should have been in the stylish little boutique were Fleur and her younger sister Gabrielle, who met them there, along with Mrs. Delacour, who behaved curiously indifferent to the whole process. After sweeping in, casting a disparaging eye over the new improved bridal party, and proclaiming them to be "Bon," she retreated outside to the cold street to smoke a cigarette from a long holder. Fleur's face betrayed her dismay, but she took over the fitting process with the air of a professional. Mrs. Weasley went to a menswear store over the road to buy suits for the boys- Fleur insisted that she would pay for them. 

Sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair watching Henrietta be measured, Hermione wished mightily that she could be back at the Burrow talking quietly with Ginny, or even Harry. Ron would be there- at least she'd be able to stop thinking about him because she'd know what he was doing, if he was smiling or laughing, flashing those gorgeous dimples- or perhaps he was being serious, chewing on a thumbnail as he watched Fred and George try to lighten the –quite frankly- strained atmosphere of the house. She thought briefly of Bill, and how bad it was for his stag night to be ruined by Percy's behaviour. 

"_Mon cherie_, it is your turn!" the dress maker, an opulent witch in pale green corduroy (apparently, corduroy was back in) motioned Hermione up onto the table. Fleur, who seemed to have selected Hermione to be her best friend, beamed and helped her up onto the table. The dressmaker _tsk-tsked_. "I 'ave never met a bridal party with such different colourings!" she cried, "No matter, I love a challenge. I 'ave the perfect tone for you all."

Hermione privately thought it would be a miracle to find a colour that matched all the girls- creamy skinned Henriatta with a short black bob, Angelina with her ebony colouring and black dreadlocks, Gabrielle Delacour, the mirror image of Fleur but shorter, and Ginny of course, with her long firey hair and scatterings of freckles. But by the time everyone had been measured, the dressmaker had amazingly produced a solution. 

"Mauve, pastels- zat sort of thing is very, very _now_, my dears," she announced, pulling yards and yards of pastel violet silk from underneath her desk. With a wave of her wand, she transformed each cutting of silk into a dress, and bid the gaggle of girls to go and try them on. Wizard weddings, as Hermione was to learn, took on a definite medieval theme. This didn't surprise her, of course, as she knew perfectly well about the curious fashion standards of wizardry- their style seamed to be to adopt several different eras of clothing at once. The dress reminded Hermione of something out of a Jane Austen novel at first, but as she out it on, she realized that the fitted corset for her torso was more reminiscent of the early 1900s. Thankfully the empire line cut of the neck was higher than most dresses from that era (the last thing Hermione wanted was to be showing off cleavage at a wedding)- the corset, she thought at first, was mercifully not so tight as it should have been, but then she realized that was because of the buttons. A row of tiny diamond buttons ran up the back of the dress from where the skirt began. She would have to get someone to help her do them up. The sleeves were not so much sleeves as a wide strip of thin silk that hung down from the shoulders- the end of each strip tied around her middle finger- remaining Hermione of the early 12th century dresses she'd once seen on a tapestry at Hogwarts. The skirt was lovely- silky, moderately full, and embroidered with roses a shade darker than the rest of the dress around the hem. All in all it was a very nice dress, and Hermione began to feel a little better about being a bridesmaid. Angelina helped her with the buttons and then, after Fleur had deemed the dresses "the most beautiful things I 'ave ever seen in my life!", the girls met Mrs. Weasley across the street, and they all went home, where they spent the rest of the night in the girl's tent, hiding Fleur form the rest of the boys, as tradition dictated, before they all eventually dropped off to sleep. 

It was midnight, then, and there was less than twelve hours to go.

*

The wedding was at eleven o'clock on Christmas day, and everyone was up early. For the part of the Weasley boys, Bill's stag night didn't' seem to have taken it's toll at all. In fact, most of them seemed a lot more chipper than Hermione, as she stumbled through the front door at seven am that morning.

"Merry Christmas, starshine," George said, raising his eyebrows at the usually alert Hermione. "You look, excusing my French-" he paused, and then adopted an obnoxious French accent. "_Buggered._"

"Late night?' Fred asked, pouring her a cup of tea.

"Yes," she mumbled. "For some insane reason I was kept up past sunrise by a bunch of rowdy men in the backyard."

"Well, with your looks, my dear, I'm sure you'll never be short of rowdy men who want to keep you awake," said George, winking. 

"Flatterer," Hermione said, with an involuntary smirk. "I look terrible," she added, catching sight of herself in the mirror next to the pantry. "But I know who to blame for that, don't I?"

"Random genetic drift?" Fred suggested.

"No. You two- you were so bloody loud last night! I couldn't get to sleep for ages. I swear they must have been able to hear you in Scotland. I never realised your mother cross bred you both with foghorns when you were born."

"Surely you jest. Foghorns? No way- we're too classy."

Hermione sighed and drained the last of her tea. "I'm going to go and have a shower."

"Can I come?' said Fred innocently.

"Now, now, Fred, don't hit on Hermione- you know her heart belongs to somebody else," said George. "Where's your brotherly loyalty?"

"In the garbage, along with my conscience and sense of decency. Boom, boom!"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said irritably, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. Fred and George looked at each other, and then simultaneously, sighed. "Nothing." they said, in unison. _Is it my imagination_, Hermione thought, as she tramped up the stairs, _or did they look _disappointed _in me?_

She smiled wryly as she thought about what they had said. _"You know her heart belongs to somebody else." _Tired old jokes about her and Ron were ten-a-penny. It was just a pity that lately they hadn't becomes jokes so much as an ironic observation of the truth.

__

You know her heart belongs to somebody else…

As if on cue, Ron emerged from Charlie's room just ahead of her. "Oh!" Hermione said, taken by surprise. He turned and looked at her. Hermione felt her heart turn over. When had he become so beautiful?

"Um, hi. Good morning."

"Morning." She tried to sound colder than she actually felt.

Ron jerked his thumb at the door. "Um, Ginny's in there, and she's, um, getting her face all done up." A sort of pathetic smile edged its way into the corners of his mouth. Hermione suddenly couldn't remember why she was supposed to be mad at him.

"Oh- am I supposed to-"

"Yeah," Ron nodded his head uncomfortably, and pushed back his hair, still wet from showering. "Have you had breakfast?"

"I'm not very hungry."

"Oh, right," Ron said. He tried to smile but it came out as a crooked grimace. "Um, anyway, I'd better-"

"Yeah, I've got to shower…."

"Okay- I'll leave you to it." He slipped past her down the narrow staircase, and despite the fact that he had practically plastered himself to the wall opposite the door to Charlie's room, his hip still bumped hers as he passed her. "Oh, that's right," Hermione mumbled, "I'm supposed to be mad at him because he turns me into a brainless idiot." Somehow, things had gotten extremely awkward between them. Hermione wondered how it could have happened. On the trip from London they had been more comfortable with each other than ever, then all of a sudden they were fighting again, all because of…

Why _were_ they fighting? Maybe it wasn't so much _them_ fighting as Hermione herself trying to fight off the undeniable feelings she'd been having for Ron. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, with the bizarre feeling that she was looking at a stranger. She tried saying it out loud. "I'm Hermione Granger, and I have feelings for Ron." She had said it in barely more than a whisper, and yet she still went bright red and looked around, lest anyone had heard. Suddenly she felt furious with herself.

"For god's sake," she hissed at herself, "it's not a bloody _affliction _to likesomeone. What on earth is wrong with you?" Why _couldn't_ she just say it? Was it not a natural process? Girl meets boy, girl and boy become friends, girl and boy become more than friends?

"It's more complicated than _that_…" But that was the price one had to pay when one was friends with Ron. He made things complicated by making them so simple. Never in her life had Hermione experienced such clear feelings for a person, and yet it seemed to her to be wrong. 

__

Why?  
I don't know.  
_You must know. Why can't you just tell him? Why is it such a problem?_

Because…everytime I try to picture myself telling him that I like him…I can't. It's not meant to be.  
_Just because something is "not meant to be" you won't make it happen? Since when have you started paying any respects to destiny. Just do it. Say it. Admit it. Do SOMETHING_, _for God's sake!_

Hermione had a shower. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about her own problems with Ron. It was Fleur and Bill's wedding day, wasn't it? She had to focus all her attention on being Fleur's bridesmaid; it wasn't fair to anyone if she wasn't concentrating. 

So she plastered on a smile for everyone in the make up room, and comforted Fleur, who was crying again. A girl named Marie- one of Fleur's Parisian friends- was in charge doing everyone's make-up, and she sat Hermione down and proceeded to rub several different lotions into Hermione's skin. "You 'ave beautiful eyes," she kept on saying. 

"_Merci_…" Hermione said, feeling uncomfortable. She didn't use make-up, normally. Her mother shipped in a lot of very expensive foundation, lipstick and mascara from Paris for her, but Hermione refused to wear it. Ginny had managed to persuade her last year to wear a tiny bit at the Yule Ball, but even then Hermione hadn't felt like it suited her. Hermione knew that she wasn't bad-looking, but she'd always thought that making a fuss about it would be putting herself in the same class of girls as…well, Parvati Patil. She was especially loathe to do that in the present circumstances. "Marie- not so much on the eyes, _s'il vous plait_."

"But they are so beautiful," Marie said, disappointed, as she brandished her mascara wand.

"Let's leave it that way." Hermione said firmly. 

"Oh well," Marie sighed, motioning Henrietta to the chair. "You' ave natural beauty anyway, 'Ermione."

Hermione was heartily embarrassed, and felt glad that Sophia- the girl in charge of doing everyone's hair- had no compliments for it. _As for my natural beauty_, Hermione thought with disdain, as Sophia rubbed shampoo Hermione's scalp with long fingernails, _I've never owned anything more useless in my life._ Hermione thought about the beautiful people she knew- Parvati, who was downright nasty; Fleur who had been so unhappy with herself until she met Bill; Cedric Diggory, who had been scorned upon as a "pretty-boy" simply because of his looks when he had always appeared, from a distance, to be perfectly amiable and charming; her own mother, who Hermione had always regarded from a very young age, as a beautiful but entirely unapproachable creature- Hermione thought about them, and thought that surely Being Beautiful was overrated. _But then again_, she thought, _they're not the only beautiful people I know._ Angelina Johnson was probably one of the most sought-after girls in the school, and she remained one of the most down to earth, lovely people that Hermione knew. Then there was Harry, with his striking green eyes and wild midnight hair, who was becoming something of a heart-throb around Hogwarts- Harry was not only her best friend, but someone she had always fervently admired. Bill Weasley was beautiful in his own mild way, with a rogue's grin and his long red hair- in addition to that he had a wonderful sense of humour and had charmed the socks off Hermione within five minutes of meeting him. And then there was Ron, of course. There was no denying it- Hermione was attracted to him. But it was only recently that she had started noticing his more lovely features. She had always known Ron's eyes were brown- but not until lately had she begun to notice that they sparkled with greenish flecks. She had always thought Ron had perfect teeth- but only lately had she begun to notice his gorgeous smile. She had always thought the colour of Ron's hair was lovely- much nicer than her muddy brown, anyway- but it was only lately that she had begun to watch the way it shone in the light, the way it flopped onto his face, the way he twiddled a lock of it round his finger when he was thinking. Surely this new attraction she felt to him had something to do with her feelings for him. Was knowing how wonderful a person he was enough to make him seem beautiful on both sides? And if that was the case, why had touching him always been so taboo? Hermione and Ron rarely hugged, and small incidents such as Ron touching her knee or Ron pushing a wisp of hair off her face became burned into her memory. She certainly never had the physical comfort with Ron as she had always had with Harry- who she could hug every day if she wanted to. But hadn't they just recently become far more physically comfortable with each other? 

Hermione was still struggling with what it meant when Sophia proclaimed her finished. "You should consider doing zis with you 'air always, 'Ermione," she said, giving her an encouraging smile. "Ze style suits you."

Hermione looked in the mirror. Sophia had weighed down her coarse, tight waves with a moisturizing conditioner, and they fell into long, soft curls. Normally Hermione's hair reached just past her shoulders, but now, the long ponytail trailed down her back, entwined with purple ribbons with tiny violets sewn onto them. "Oh," said Hermione. "Well…"

"You look _fantastic_." Angelina said admiringly, pausing in her effort to fend off Marie's mascara wand. 

"Oh '_Ermione_, Fleur cried, bustling into the room. "You look _so_ _beautiful_! Oh, I am so 'appy!" She promptly burst into tears. Marie sighed.

"Not _again_…" 

Angelina gratefully escaped the make-up chair and let Fleur be seated to have her running make up redone. Sophia turned to Hermione as she grabbed Angelina for her hair to be done. "You 'ad best go and put your dress on," she said, and tapped her watch. Hermione looked at her own wristwatch. It was nine thirty already. Only an hour and a half to go.

She dutifully escaped to Ginny's room where all the girls were to get dressed, and found no one in there. She donned her gown, being careful of her hair and make up, and then, after trying to do up the tiny little buttons by herself, gave up. "Ginny!" she called, venturing out onto the rickety staircase, "Ginny- oh."

It was Ron again, craning his neck around as though looking for someone. "Charlie-" When he saw her, he stopped dead. His mouth dropped open. His eyes took in the hair, the dress, the make-up. Hermione felt a blush tear up her neck and flood her cheeks, stinging the back of her eyes.

"Hermione-" Ron finally managed. "You…you look…"

"Have you seen Ginny?" Hermione interrupted. She was highly embarrassed, not to mention confused. Did Ron think she looked stupid or what?

"No," Ron said, still seemingly unable to tear his eyes away. "H-have you seen Charlie?"

"No." He was half-dressed in his wedding outfit. He had not yet put on his black pants but had started to do up his white dress shirt. The top few buttons were undone, and his neck looked long and graceful. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry?"

"Stop staring at me."

"Oh- gosh, sorry," he said, looking at his feet in a bashful way that Hermione found adorable. "Um, did you…want anything in particular?"

"I just need someone to help me do up the buttons. Why, what did you need?"

"Just someone to help me do up the cuffs." He held up his hands- the cuffs of his shirt were indeed undone- and suddenly they were smiling at each other. 

"Come here, then," Hermione said, and Ron dutifully held out his hands. Each shirt cuff had three tiny diamond buttons, exactly like the ones on the back of the dresses. It was no wonder Ron couldn't do up the fiddly things by himself- Hermione had much smaller fingers than him and she was finding it difficult. That might not have all been due to the size of the buttons though. Hermione had a feeling it was a lot to do with the close proximity in which she and Ron were standing. The top of her head as practically touching his chest, and she could feel Ron's eyes boring into her. As it happened, Hermione was wondering how much longer she would be able to go, standing so close to him and yet feeling so unable to touch him. She felt lost again. 

"Are you nervous?' Ron said suddenly.

"About what?" Hermione had finished his right hand and moved onto the left. 

"The wedding."

"Oh," Hermione said, and didn't answer. She _was_ feeling rather fluttery in the stomach, but that wasn't so much anything to do with the wedding as it was Ron's breath tickling her forehead. He felt warm and he smelt of cologne. Ron dipped his head.

"Are you nervous?" he said again, this time, softer.

"I'm terrified," Hermione whispered, without thinking. 

"Don't be," said Ron, as Hermione finished doing up the last button. 

"You're done," she said quickly, afraid to look up. She knew she'd be caught by his gaze, and she had no wish to do anything rash right before the wedding. No point in creating a stir.

"Okay, thanks. Would you like me to do up those buttons, then?"

"Oh- all right," said Hermione, and cursed herself as the words came out of her mouth. _Not_ a good idea, not when she was feeling so _bizarre_…

"Okay," Ron murmured, sweeping her mane of curls over her shoulder. For a moment or two, he struggled with the buttons down the bottom, closest to the skirt. The silence between Hermione made her feel oddly sick. _Think of something to say. _"Um, are _you_ nervous? He _is_ your brother…"

"Yeah but, you know…Bill's always going to be okay. I guess it'll be weird now that he's all grown up and going to start a family."

"Hey, you could be an uncle, one day soon."

"Maybe," laughed Ron. There was a melancholy tone to her laugh the made Hermione turn her head as far as she could. His hair was vivid out of the corner of her eye. 

"Ron…"

"Yeeeees?"

"How do you feel about Percy? Really?" She swallowed. Ron's thumbnails had just grazed her back- the touch was feather light against her skin. "Are you okay?" 

A long sigh. "Yeah. I think I am."

She turned to face him. She knew Ron, with or without his beautiful eyes, and she could read him –well, like a book. "Really."

"Hermione," said Ron, looking down at her passively, "I don't _care_ about Percy." He said it with such aplomb that Hermione didn't even have to wonder if he was telling the truth. Her expression must have prompted him to explain. "What I care about is…how do I put this?" He paused, fiddling idly with the cuff buttons Hermione had just done up. "I care about what he's throwing away, I suppose. I mean, he's looked up to Bill since he was out of nappies, and…" Another long sigh. "I don't know. Let's not talk about it today."

"You're right," Hermione said, "Sorry." Ron didn't say anything, just swept back her hair again and did up the buttons, one, two three, his fine touch making the skin on her back tingle. She wanted to run away, and yet she never wanted it to end; she wanted him so, but he made her so _scared_…. Then suddenly Hermione was breathing again, and Ron was smiling at her. "Thanks for doing this today, for Fleur."

"Not at all, it's my pleasure," said Hermione, her face burning. (She'd suddenly become aware of the fact that, through the back of the open dress, Ron must have seen the fastening of her bra.) Another moment or so. Both looked up into each other's faces, then away at the ground, with short, breathy laughs.

__

You know her heart belongs to somebody else.

"Hermione," Ron said desperately, as Hermione turned to go. She looked at him. "You do look…really nice. Really, really nice."

"Oh, well…" Hermione forced a laugh. "Thanks, Uncle Ron."

His hand reached forward and brushed a wisp of hair from her face. "Don't mention it." And as his hand lingered around her cheek, Hermione did something else to not mention. She reached up and placed her hand over Ron's, which gently relaxed onto her cheek. Eyes locked, they stood there for what was in reality a few seconds but what to Hermione seemed like forever. For those few seconds, Hermione honestly believed that she would have had the courage to tell him how she felt- like holding Ron's hand gave her some sort of…strength.

"You look nice," Ron repeated, drawing away, gently. "Really, um, beautiful."

Hermione wished she'd never gotten out of bed.


	14. Fourteen

__

AN: Feel for me. As I write about the characters frolicking in the snow of England I'm sitting in summer heat of more than thirty degrees Celsius. Oh the sweaty, sweaty irony. On another note, I'm watching Lord of the Rings: the Fellowship of the Ring as I write, and I think I'm just that little bit more in love with Orlando Bloom. On another another note: reviews are insanely cool. (To my "Friends" friend- sorry, I've forgotten your nick- all is forgiven. *grin*) And on a third note, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Oh my god, the fellowship have just gotten to the citadel in the mines and everyone is staring at it in wonder. The music is quite, quite pretty. Sorry, back to the story.

*

The wedding couldn't have been better. In fact, the entire day was declared a success from the moment that Hermione fixed Fleur's make up to be waterproof with a clever sticking charm. Bill was handsome in his eighteenth century gentleman's suit- Hermione fancied him a kind of ginger-haired Mr. Darcy-like figure. (AN: Whee! Pride and Prejudice! Of course, Bill doesn't look a thing like Colin Firth…) Ron felt an unusual swell of brotherly pride as Ginny walked down the aisle (and an equally unusual (?) swell of tenderness when Hermione followed). Fleur-predictably- drew gasps from the crowd as she walked down the aisle in her beautiful silk and satin flowing gown, her long her piled up onto her head and interlaced with tiny red roses. The adoration of the happy couple was so obvious it practically bowled one over. Fleur cried. Ginny cried. Mrs. Weasley cried. And then, Colin cried (much to Harry's amusement.) Even Mr. Weasley got a bit teary as he shook his son's hand after the new couple had signed the wizard wedding register. 

That day, Miss Fleur Delacour, the part-Veela ex student of Beauxbatons Academy, toast of the Triwizard Tournament, and member of the Parisian wizarding society elite, became Mrs. William Weasley- she became the wife of a lower-class curse breaker from the country, who consorted with Muggles and actively protested against the Ministry his own brother worked for. It was a perfect match.

The reception was being held in an enormous pavilion in an empty field near the Burrow. To protect it from the eyes of curious Muggle farmers, Mr. Weasley and Charlie had spent the entire previous day performing all sorts on it so that the wizards and witches could party undisturbed. While the ground was covered in snow it was warm inside the tent, and over a hundred wizards and witches milled about, drinking , laughing and dancing. For a wizarding wedding, it was remarkably Muggle-like. In fact the only out of ordinary part of the ceremony (that Hermione had noticed) had been the part when Fleur and Bill said their vows and then did a curious thing that everyone called _Ahgrah_- they put their wands tip to tip, and, with a low humming and a surge of white light, they exchanged wand essence. The chaplain had explained that this meant by the magic inside of their wands, they were joined, as only a witch and wizard can be. This had been true of the wedding rings as well, which were charmed with the essence of their wands. Hermione found the whole thing very touching. 

And she was having fun, too. Everyone seemed to want to say hello to her, and she had been receiving compliments left right and centre. Even a nervous Colin Creevey had sidled up to her and blurted out, "My word, Hermione, you do look smashing." The night seemed to become brighter and more fun as every minute passed- Hermione could practically feel herself loosening up as she downed Butterbeer, told jokes and sang songs among the incandescent bunch of people. She was even compelled to dance- a past time that she very rarely engaged in. First she and Harry had stumbled around the dance floor in a clumsy tango, both of them laughing too hard to breathe; then Charlie had claimed a dance and told her that she was very pretty; this was followed by a spin with one of Ron's sunburnt cousins who told her all about sheep farming in a broad Australian accent; and Lee Jordan whirled her around the floor so exuberantly she had to sit down for five minutes afterward. Colin Creevey was just taking through the finer points of the fox-trot when she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was George, his tie undone and his shirt unbuttoned at the top. "Can I cut in, Colin?"

"Oh, er- ah, yes."

"Ta," he said, gallantly bowing to Hermione. She laughed and did a mock curtsey. The music start up as a waltz, and george, who turned out to be quite an excellent dancer, guided her easily around the room. "You told me you didn't dance," he said accusingly.

"I meant, I don't dance with _you_."

"That's fair enough. I mean, I do have leprosy." George rolled his eyes. Then suddenly he smiled and nodded over her shoulder. "Look."

Hermione looked. It was Ron, dancing with one of his sunburnt cousins- the girl, whose name Hermione had forgotten. Mavis? Mildred? The girl was that much shorter than Ron she had to stand on his feet, and even then she only came up to his neck. They laughed as they stumbled awkwardly around like a couple of scarecrows. Hermione felt a pang of adoration. George was watching her with interest.

"Isn't he sweet?" he said, in a falsetto. He emitted a giggle that sounded disturbingly like Lavender's laugh. Then his expression changed. "Seriously Hermione, you know how great he is don't you?"

"Of course I do," Hermione flushed. "He's my best friend. One of my best friends."

"Ah, see, now, that's a lie, isn't it?"

"No…" Hermione said, feeling bewildered. "He's my…friend."

"He's not," said George smugly. "And I think, Miss Granger, if you _were_ any class of friend, you would tell him that you don't consider him a friend in the slightest."

"But I _do_! I…do…" she repeated, with less conviction.

George shook his head. "You don't. You know that's not the truth. Well, maybe it's truth in part," he amended, "but I'd say that you and Ron were so much more than friends, it would be an untruth to _call_ you friends."

Hermione didn't think she would be able to say anything that wouldn't betray to George the fact that he was right. She tried laughing it off, but George had fixed her with his serious expression. It came along so rarely, and was such an intense, persuasive phenomena, that Hermione's laughter died in her throat. Luckily, she realised at that moment that the song had changed from the curious wizarding beat to something Hermione recognised.

"Hey!" she blurted out, glad for the distraction. "I know this- this is Sinatra!"

"Huh? Oh yeah, that Muggle singer. Bill loves Muggle music."

__

I won't dance, don't ask me, I won't dance, don't ask me…. George sang along with the music in a parody of the famous singer. Hermione laughed- for some reason it was insanely funny.

"Calm down there," George said, raising his eyebrows as he put his arm around her to steady her. "Don't fall over now."

"I'm fine. I _love_ Sinatra!" She caught sight of Ron, attempting a ridiculous twirl under his much shorter cousin's arm, and she stopped short at the rush of affection that she felt. 

"You okay?"

"Fine…" she said with less conviction. She felt heavy all of a sudden- she realised suddenly that George was having to hold her up. "Sshhhhhorry George…"

"You think I _mind_ having a beautiful girl like you fall all over me?" George laughed. "If it weren't for the fact that you belong to somebody else, I'd try something. That and the fact that I'm a perfectly decent human being."

"I don't _belong_ to anybody…"

"Well, maybe so. But your heart does."

Ron chose that precise moment to look over at Hermione, and their eyes met across the dance floor as they might in some episode of _Passions_ that her mother might enjoy. George was studying her face.

"I'm right," he said, with not a trace of smugness. "Aren't I?"

Hermione's brain had shut down. Her mouth opened and shut stupidly for a few moments. "George, I…"

"God, Hermione," he said, with a small smile, as he twirled her under his arm. "It's nothing to be _ashamed_ of. You two treat each other so appallingly there's only two options: you either hate each other, or you love each other." 

"I d-don't hate him…"

"So you must love him." George said gently. He dipped her, and the tent spun around her head. Laughing people, sipping wine, dancing, hugging, kissing, her hair swished in her eyes and through her fuzzy thoughts one clear, clarion, crystaline conviction leapt to the surface like a dolphin breaking water.

__

I must love him.

She hadn't thought it was so bad. She knew she liked him, she knew she was attracted to him, she knew that he was definitely more than a friend…but _love_? The turn of her heart told her it was true. 

"And you must tell him." George's eyes bore into her own. "Hermione? You know you've got to, eh? Oh come on, old girl," he gave her a jovial punch on the shoulder as Hermione's tired eyes welled with tears. Everything was so _confusing_…she definitely wasn't herself. Something was wrong. George led her over to the drink table by the hand and poured her a butterbeer as Hermione put her hand over her weeping eyes. "Here you are, you dizzy cow," he said gently, handing her the drink. Something in the back of Hermione's mind told her it tasted slightly funny- but hadn't the butterbeer been tasting funny all evening? She assumed it was just the barrel they were drinking out of.

"Thanks George," with a weak smile, she let go of his hand. Their dance was over. The song had changed again- another Sinatra song. _I know I stand in line until I think you have the time to spend an evening with me…and if we go some place to dance I know that there's a chance you won't be leaving with me…_

"You be a good girl, Hermione Granger, and remember what I've told you." George gave her one more incredibly sincere grin, and then he disappeared into the crows, to claim Angelina for a dance.

And then Ron was by her side, taking her hand, pulling her to her feet. "Are you okay?" Wordlessly, she nodded. _I must love him._ He grinned. "Then may I claim a dance? Just one?"

"You can have them all, Ron Weasley," she whispered. He took her right hand in his left; his remaining hand slipped down to her waist and pulled her close, and his touch was infused with such tenderness Hermione wanted nothing more, nothing less, than to hug him and never let go. The record crooned. _I can see it in your eyes you still despise the same old lines you heard the night before…_ She slid her hand up his white shirt and cupped it round the back of his graceful neck. Their feet started to move, gently, awkwardly. _I do love him._ They revolved slowly, round the edges of the floor, their eyes slowly becoming used to each other's gaze as their feet became used to the steps. Ron's hand was warm and soft, slightly sweaty, and his breath was sweet on her face. "I'm so glad," he said, steadying her, "I'm so glad I finally got to dance with you. I've been waiting for this all night."

For Hermione's part, she felt she'd been waiting for this all her life.

*

Ron had been watching her all night, of course. For god's sake, it was impossible to tear his eyes away when she was looking so…so _beautiful_. Ron couldn't be bothered with the party when his best girl had transformed into a goddess. He wanted to take her away into the snow by himself. He wanted to hold her outside in the white, underneath the stars. He wanted to look into her eyes and kiss her smooth cheeks. But he had realised something important.

He would want to do those things with her regardless of whether or not she was wearing a purple bridesmaid's dress. He would feel the same way he did for her if she was wearing her pyjamas. What was it Bill had said? _It's just sort of a bonus that she happens to look like a goddess._

She was behaving very oddly, and Ron had an inkling of why, if Fred and George's actions throughout the evening were anything to go on. "Just like I thought," he murmured grimly, as George poured mead into an unsuspecting Hermione's butterbeer. He frowned. Hermione looked close to upset. She also looked close to drunk. "I've had enough of this," he said suddenly. He'd watched his beautiful Hermione all night, dancing with Harry, Charlie, Lee, even Colin, for god's sake. It would not stand. Didn't they know that she was his to hold, and his alone?

"Are you okay?" he asked her, as he strode over to meet her. She turned her doe eyes on him, and looked at him like she'd never seen anything like him before. She nodded. "Then may I claim a dance? Just one?"

"You can have them all, Ron Weasley." Just like that, she'd won him. Ron thought he might have slipped into his pool of feelings for her just a little bit deeper, and as he pulled her to him, he wondered when they had come so far from being friends to this. Dancing was not usually an activity he partook in, but with Hermione, it was easy. Surprisingly easy, since her scent and her skin made him feel dizzy, as though he himself had been drinking mead. He wondered what would happen if he kissed her, but because the moment between them was so beautiful he had no wish to disrupt the perfect harmony he and Hermione seemed to be conducting. Instead he drew her just a little bit closer, because she seemed to be unsteady on her feet, and he had no wish to see her fall. "I'm glad…I finally got to dance with you." Might as well be honest. "I've been waiting all night," he confessed. 

Again she looked up at him with the expression with which one might look at a stranger. It caught Ron by the heart, and he suddenly had the uncomfortable sensation that he was dancing with someone he barely knew. It _could_ have been a stranger in his arms- the tipsy, extravagantly dressed and impeccably made-up girl in his arms was certainly nothing like the Hermione he knew. He knew Angry Hermione, Working Hermione, Amused Hermione, In-A-Good-Mood Hermione- but not Made-Up Drunk Hermione. "R-Ron," she stammered. "I think…I think…" she removed her hand from his shoulder and put a hand to her head, looking bewildered. "Oh, I feel…so strange."

"Me too." Ron said, gently drawing her closer. She looked up at him dreamily.

"You look pretty," she slurred, "especially in your suit. You're so beautiful Ron." Her hand played at the collar of his shirt, gently grazing his throat with her fingernails. He suddenly couldn't swallow. 

"So are you," he said. His heart was aching to do _something_…so why was he suddenly terrified? Why did he draw away from her even as she nestled into his chest, too tipsy to stand up straight? "Something's wrong," he mumbled, pulling away. Ron _wanted _to kiss her- but he couldn't. Something was stopping him. The strange Muggle music did nothing to help his disoriented feeling. 

__

And then I went and spoiled it all by saying something stupid like I luuh-huve you… 

Hermione sang along with the words, and it was at the last part of that line- _I love you_- that she looked up at him with her velvety eyes. She could have been telling him…A shiver ran up his spine. This was _not_ the sort of thing that friends did…these were not the sort of feelings he should be having for a friend. It was really time to face facts.

__

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you…I love you…I love you…

As the song faded to a close, Hermione suddenly burst out laughing, and spun around. Her long thick ponytail of curls hit him in the chest. "What's so funny?" he asked, catching her as she threatened to topple over.

"Everything," she hiccuped, "this is so…ridiculous…" Ron had to laugh as well. It was ridiculous. The whole situation was just so…_stupid_. Hermione darted forward and raised her arms as of to hug him- but suddenly she was tickling him up his tides and under his arms. How did she know he was ticklish? "No!" he yelped, leaping forward and catching her in his arms to prevent more tickling. Giggling, she slipped out of his embrace and darted out of the tent, nearly tripping over her own feet. It was a mystery to Ron as to how she managed to stay upright. He darted after her, out of the warm tent into the cold of the snowy night. "It's freezing out here!" he called after Hermione. His voice echoed weirdly off the snow, and his breath came out in a sharp white cloud. She was up ahead, looking for all the world like one of the beautiful winter nymphs like he had seen in his History of Magic book. Her hair was coming loose- it tumbled around her shoulders in long chestnut waves. She twirled around dizzily, only just missing the frozen over pond in the corner of the field. Ron jogged up to her. "Hermione!" he laughed, catching her in a dizzying whirl of mauve silk and satin. Once again, she slipped out of his embrace and ducked in between the slats of the wold wooden fence surrounding the field. "Go to the house!" he laughed, jogging after her. He swung one of his long legs over the fence, watching her dance ahead of him, her long dress whirling behind her. He caught her at the door of the Burrow- she shrieked and giggled as he picked her up and whirled her around- _this isn't you, Hermione_ was all he could think- he pushed open the front door and they tumbled inside the warm house, giggling breathlessly, until they both flopped down into the armchair, crushed together in a tangle of arms and legs. Ron tried to extricate himself immediately, but Hermione slid both her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. They were face to face. Their chase had left them both breathless and her skin was still cold against his from their time outside in the snow. Her breath tickled his face; a lock of his hair fluttered in front of his eyes every time she exhaled.

"Ron…"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"I don't know," she shook her head slightly. (She was so beautiful.) "I don't know what I'm doing or…oh, Ron…" Suddenly they were so close that their noses were touching. Ron's heart was beating a mile a minute. He _wanted_ this. Didn't he? _Didn't he_? And just after he realised that he couldn't- he _really_ couldn't- she kissed him.

For about two seconds it was warm and wonderful. It confirmed to Ron all he already knew- Hermione wasn't just his friend, how _could_ she be his friend when she was everything he wanted in a girlfriend?

And then he remembered why he couldn't. Not their first kiss. It had to be done properly. Not while she was drunk. He pulled away very gently. Her doe eyes fluttered. 

"Ron?" she whispered. She seemed to be sobering.

"Not like this, Hermione…not like this." He reached up and disentangled her hands from around his neck. She was staring at him with a mortified expression- Ron may as well have just told her she had only gotten six OWLs. Suddenly she pushed him away form her with both hands, slid out from underneath him, tumbled onto the floor, and picked herself up.

"Hermione?"

"No-" she choked, as he made to take her hand. "Don't-"

"You don't understand- let me talk to you-" 

"No!" she ripped her hand from his grip and fled from the room. A resounding silence clung to Ron like humid air. He couldn't blame her, of course. It must have seemed to her like her was rejecting her, or something. But although rejecting her was the farthest thing from his mind, it went against every poor of Ron's being (not to mention every syllable of gentlemanly behaviour he'd been brought up with) to kiss her while she was in that state. She can't have known what she was doing. Most likely she would wake up, remember, and kick herself. She must have been especially lost to want to kiss him. Ron wanted to help her find the way, but it would have to wait until the morning.


	15. Fifteen

__

AN: Oh god, it just gets WORSE. Stop reading. Stop reading NOW.

The morning dawned with a white winter sun and a suspicious amount of silence. Ron blinked and sat up- he had fallen asleep on the armchair. A few seconds of nothingness ticked by in his mind before the events of the previous night swarmed back to him. And he had no idea how to feel.   
Surely he should feel happy? The girl of his dreams had kissed him. _She_ had kissed _him_. Or maybe he should feel incredibly stupid. After all, _he_ had pushed her away. But how would he have been able to live with himself if he had let her? Who knows where it would have led to, with Hermione in the state she had been in? In despair, Ron slumped, resting his forehead in his hands, trying desperately to will his headache away. _Why_ did this have to be so complicated? Surely if he liked a girl, _surely_ if his feelings were as strong as he thought they were, it would be second nature to walk up to her and say it? "Hermione, I think I…" Of course not. Because Hermione wasn't just any girl. She was Hermione- and that's where everything went pear-shaped.   
"Oh good, you're awake." Harry, startling Ron out of his thoughts, had appeared at the foot of the stairs, pulling a sweater over his head.   
"What's the time?" croaked Ron. "Where is everyone?"  
"It's ten. Your mum, Ginny, Lee, Henrietta and Charlie have gone to clear up the mess left over from last night. Your dad and the twins gone to see of your relatives at Ottery St Catchpole. They're taking a Portkey out from Stoatshead Hill." He paused for a moment to roll down the cuffs of his oversized jumper. "And Hermione, Colin and Angelina are still asleep." He leant against the arm of the sofa and looked seriously at Ron, who sensed something was up.  
"Everything okay?" he mumbled, feeling slow and seedy compared to Harry, who had already washed and dressed.   
"Yeah. Listen, I'll talk to you later, but the thing is, Sirius is coming."  
Ron was suddenly a few watts more alert. "He is? What do you mean?"  
"He's Floo-ing into a the house of an old friend of Remus's in Ottery St Catchpole and he's meeting me in the orchard- nothing's wrong, we're just going to catch up," he added, at Ron's nervous expression. "I'll be an hour or so- can you just make sure no one goes wandering out there? You can tell Hermione what's up when she's awake. Is that okay?"  
"That's fine," Ron said, nodding. "Give him my best, yeah?"  
"Sure," Harry said, his grin no doubt the product of anticipating a meeting with his godfather. "See you in a bit." He disappeared out the back door, leaving Ron alone with his thoughts. He managed to drag himself upstairs eventually for a shower and a change of clothes, but it provided little to no burst of inspiration for his train of thoughts. His mind's eye seemed to be stuck on one picture- that of Hermione's face when he had pulled away last night. It was at once beautiful and painful, and he wondered if he would always remember the pain in her eyes and feel regret. Maybe the previous night had been his only chance to kiss her. Maybe now that Hermione had sobered up, she would tell him what he was certain she was feeling- "I'm sorry Ron, but I just don't like you."  
As it happened, he was fairly sure that must be how she was feeling. How could she not be when he had treated her so appallingly in their past years of friendship? He couldn't suddenly turn around and expect her to forgive him just because he happened to have feelings for her. Friends forgave each other, yes, but what if he wanted to be more than friends? The possibilities of what she might say to that prospect were painful. Ron threw himself back down on the armchair, his mind reeling.

Opening the front door to the Burrow that morning was by far the bravest thing Hermione felt she had ever done. She had enjoyed about two seconds of perfect unreality that morning after she'd woken up. And then memories of the previous night had hit her in the face like a ton of bricks. _I kissed him. I KISSED him._ She wanted to cry, but tears refused to come. She wanted to scream, but it would hardly be fair to wake up Angelina. She wanted to die, but she had left her wand inside. What if Ron was in there? It didn't bear thinking about. Eventually the pressure in her bladder and pressure in her mind had prompted her to get up out of bed- although no sooner had she done so than she wished she hadn't.  
"Oh!" she gasped, as what felt like a thousand knives began twisting themselves into her skull. She grabbed wildly at the dressing table to steady herself, her hand nearly slipping off on a crumpled piece of parchment someone had left there. No wonder he mouth felt like sandpaper and her brain head been pulsing with a dull ache from the moment she opened her eyes. No wonder the light peeking through the tent flap seemed a million watts too bright. No wonder the butterbeer had tasted funny.  
"Fred and George," Hermione muttered, as her stomach lurched when she attempted a few steps towards the tent flap. "I thought they seemed a bit eager to serve me drinks." No wonder she had been able to drop off to sleep the previous night, when, in all reasonable circumstances, she should have been unable to even close her eyes with worry. _I kissed him…_Being drunk was not something she indulged in often. In fact, up until the wedding reception, the only alcohol she had ever drunk had been a sip of champagne once every New Year's Eve. Certainly never enough to get her as tipsy as she had been the night before. Certainly never enough to compel her to do what she had done to Ron. "Arrrrgh," Hermione said through gritted teeth, standing outside the front door of the burrow. She was holding her hands over her eyes, using the small cracks between her fingers to guide her- the sun was far, far too bright.   
She still had in her hand the piece of parchment form the dressing table, and she used it as a makeshift shield from the sun.   
And who should she see upon walking into the house but the purveyor of her angst. Unfortunately the purveyor of her angst looked so exceptionally lovely and vulnerable as he turned to look at her when she came in it was all she could do not to burst into tears on sight of him.  
"Hi," he said, after they had both stared at each other for a moment. Obviously he remembered the kiss too. (_Of course he does. He broke it off, remember?_) Suddenly he smiled. "How's the head?"  
For about three seconds, a wonderful normality swooped between them. _This_ was how things ought to be- goading each other- not sharing drunken kisses on the armchair that Ron was seated on at that very moment.  
"You knew I was drunk," Hermione accused, shutting the door gently behind her.   
"It was hard to miss," Ron said gently. Hermione suddenly felt quite sick. She hadn't even considered the fact that everyone was watching her get tipsy.   
"Oh _no_…" she groaned, leaning her head against the doorway.  
"Are you all right?"  
"No. I think I'll go and have a shower."

Ron came to a decision while she was upstairs, and that was to address the problem directly. By problem, he meant their relationship. And even though just the thought made his palms sweat like they never had since Quidditch tryouts, he was so sick of things the way they were- the constant analysing of every move she made, the unending train of thought that would inevitably end up with _Does she like me too?_, the agony of not knowing what she was doing every single second of the day- he was so sick of it that he was willing to throw away his any qualms he might have. Sort of.   
She came downstairs eventually (it must have been Ron's imagination, but to him it seemed like a far too long shower) her hair in crinkly waves once again, droplets of water still clinging to her neck and ears. He stood up as she entered the room, and the movement didn't go unnoticed by her. She stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs, and stared at him. "I think I'll go and make some coffee. You want some?"  
"Um, yeah, 'course."  
She shuffled out of the living room into the kitchen. Ron could hear her pottering about, hear her bring the kettle to boil with a tap of her wand, and thought for a moment that he wouldn't have the courage. Then he caught sight of the photo above the fireplace, the one of him and Bill, and he thought of Percy, sneering at them from the ashes, and he thought _At any moment it could all be taken away_. Everything he loved about Hermione, everything that infuriated him or entranced him; everything that frustrated him and bewitched him, all of it could be taken away at any moment. He wouldn't be able to live if it all went away and she didn't know how he felt. She had to know how he felt. He thought of their kiss on the armchair and felt heartened. Maybe there was hope for them.   
He walked through to the kitchen. Hermione was leaning against the counter staring into her mug of coffee, the weak sunlight shone through the window onto her chestnut head. In her white dressing gown and blue striped pyjamas, she looked just as beautiful as she had in her bridesmaid's dress.  
"Ummm…" He hovered uncertainly at the doorway. She looked up at him for one second to give him a furtive smile, then her gaze shot back down to her coffee.   
"There you go," she motioned with her head to a steaming mug on the counter next to her. He went over and picked it up. Maybe he didn't have to say anything. Maybe all he had to do was put his arms around her and do what he wanted to do. In the morning light, everything was clear and he could see his way. He didn't feel lost anymore.   
"Hermione," he said. Something in his voice obviously invited her to look at him because slowly, she tore her eyes away from her coffee and turned her gaze on him.

__

This is it, she thought, _something's going to happen. After everything that we've been through this year it's all going to come out._ His bright brown gaze was infused with such an intensity that Hermione had to look away again. She suddenly remembered her conversation with George last night, fuzzy and confusing. _" God, Hermione, it's nothing to be ashamed of…you two treat each other so appallingly there's only two options: you either hate each other or you love each other." _She remembered what she'd realised last night and her stomach turned over. She loved him last night at the party amid the dresses and the bright lights. And she loved him in the morning, with his hair rumpled and in the white sunlight. She thought about their kiss on the armchair, and was immediately disheartened. Surely if he didn't love her last night, when she was looking her best, he wouldn't ever love her? "Hermione," he said, reaching over and taking the mug from her hands, placing it gently onto the counter. "We have to talk."  
"Ab-about what?" she tried.  
Ron stared at her. "Don't be like that." He was shaking his head, slowly. "You _know_."  
"I know." She owed him the truth at least. "I can't. I don't know what's going on, or what to say. I can't talk to you, Ron."  
"Hah!" a breathless exclamation. "So you meant it, then? What you said on Christmas Eve- about how our whole friendship has been a waste of time?"  
"Mean it?" Hermione spluttered. "Of course I didn't mean it!"  
"Then why are you throwing away this chance to _salvage_ what we have?" Ron said, sounding annoyed.  
"I'm _not_, I just-"  
"Hermione, _please_- I'm not _that_ stupid." He was definitely annoyed now. "If I'm- what was it you said?- _laboring under a misapprehension_- then just tell me right now, please."  
Hermione was completely at a loss for words for about three seconds. "Ron- I'm not- I mean- _look_, it's not that I don't _want _ to talk-"  
"Then let's _talk_." And so saying, he grabbed her under her arms and hoisted her onto the kitchen counter.   
"_Ron_!"  
"Look at me, please."  
She did, and to her own detriment; he was still wearing his intense expression, only this time it was worse because he reached out and took her hand. He was so affectionate that Hermione's eyes watered. _Why did you pull away?_  
"Last night- when you…you know, when we…um…" He was going red. Hermione laughed despite herself.  
"I kissed you."   
"Yeah!" Ron exclaimed. Then he paused. "I pulled away."  
"Yeah," Hermione echoed sadly. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt dizzy. Ron was brushing his fringe distractingly out of his face and she knew he was about to say something that would change everything.  
"Look, Hermione…" he said, and then stopped. His mouth was opening and shutting like a fish.

__

Why can't I say it? Ron felt it with practically every pore, so why couldn't he just _blurt_ it out like he had so many other stupid comments in the past? That one about his friendship with Hermione being nothing was a winner. Oh, as was the comment about her making up stories about him and Parvati when all she had been trying to do was help. Yes, he'd said some pretty godamn stupid things in the past, and if his feeling for her were equally ridiculous, why couldn't he just blurt it out? "There's too much to say?" Hermione inferred, looking at his (obviously) stupid expression. Ron nodded.  
"Yeah." He paused, thinking. "What's that way you told me to think things out?"  
"Laterally?"  
"That's the one," he said. "Let's talk it out, laterally. From the beginning." He paused again. "It didn't start with that kiss you know. I think…there's been things going on between us since…well, forever. So, um, let's sit down, and talk it out." 

Hermione was holding her breath. "Things?" she said finally, after Ron had fixed her with an interesting gaze for a few moments. He was the one to look away this time.  
"Things," he mumbled. "I just…dunno how to say it…"  
"Well, _you_ wanted to talk," she said, hardly daring to hope. He looked up and grinned at her. 

Ron felt slightly better for her poking fun at him. It made things feel- well, normal. But he didn't want normal anymore because normal had been so tinged by his feelings for her that it _wasn't_ normal. It was sort of a limbo between old feelings and new feelings. Feeling as though they were on the edge of a revelation, he moved forward and put his hands gently over Hermione's, which were resting on the counter. He leant against her knees with his stomach. Surely he didn't have to say anything? But Hermione was waiting for him to say it, and he had to.  
"Okay," he said, after a few deep breaths. "Right."

__

Say it…please, say it. Say what I need to hear from you. The pressure of his stomach against her knees made her feel braver- something was definitely about to happen. And why should Ron have to be the one to make it so?

"I know what you mean!" Hermione suddenly blurted out. The words Ron had been about to force out died in his throat.   
"You do?" he said (squeakily). She nodded breathlessly.  
"Things…between us…" she stammered. That seemed to be all she could say. She blinked helplessly at him. "Ron-"  
"Okay! Okay!" Ron said, suddenly infused with a new courage, "I can say it, don't worry- Hermione," he said, then took a few more deep breaths. He squeezed her hands tightly. "Are you ready? I'm going to say it."  
"Yes," she said.  
"Really? Because after I say it- everything's going to change."   
"Say it, for heaven's sake, say it!" she laughed. "You of all people should know I'm not averse to change."  
"But- between us?" Ron said, shaking his head. "I mean- things have been sort of- this way- for _so_ long, and for things to change, I mean- we should take it slow, of course, and-"  
"Ron," she said, silencing him by putting three soft fingers over his mouth. 

"It's like you said the other day," Hermione said softly. "Things are changing. The world is shifting and it's going to keep on shifting. We're not going to be able to stop it." She fumbled in the pocket of her dressing gown. She was breathless. "But it would be nice if we could watch it change together." Ron's eyes widened as he realised what she meant.

She brought out two crumpled pieces of parchment from the pocket of her dressing gown. Ron stared. One of the pieces was his letter that he'd written to her on Christmas Eve. The one he hadn't been able to finish reading aloud. "And maybe," she said, "You don't need to say it because you've already written it down…" She smoothed out the paper and read from it. "Dear Hermione, you must be tired of hearing it now, but I'm sorry. I know what I did wrong this morning and I know that realising that it was wrong too late is also another thing I've done wrong. Even another thing I've done wrong is not appreciate you properly- or at least, not let you know just how much I appreciate you. The reason I never told you how much I appreciate you is because I never thought I would be able to put it into words. You've done more for me than anyone else I've known ever has in the time I've been alive and no amount of thanking you will justify it." Pause. When she read again, her voice was much softer. "You have changed me. I've changed _for_ you. I don't know how much that means to you, but it means a lot to me. _You_ mean a lot to me. You're the only person in the world who would ever be able to make me feel the way I do. I wanted you to know this because…" she paused again, her eyes cloudy. "The world is changing, and it's going to keep on changing. We won't be able to stop it, but it would be nice if we could watch it change together. What we have is more than just friendship and I wish that I could take back all the times I put it in jeopardy. I promise that I'll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen again. The only thing I ask you to do is make sure that you don't change- the wonderful person you are is enough for me. Love, Ron." She looked up at him- Ron could feel his face burning. Had he really written that? It was very unlike him.   
Perhaps it was all part of growing up…

"But I _have_ changed, Ron," Hermione found herself saying. She put down his letter and then picked up her list- the one she'd made so many weeks ago. The one that she'd been altering and changing as the situation between her and Ron dictated. And, with the feeling that she was finally surrendering her heart, she handed it to him. His eyebrows shot up into his fringe. 

Ron read the list with disbelief. How long ago had she written this? It had been folded up, crumpled up and smoothed out many times over. The list of facts about himself and Hermione looked like it had been modified and re-modified over and over again. Most likely over the space of a few weeks, as well- all the inks were different colours.   
"I wrote it when you started going out with Parvati," Hermione said hopelessly, "and since then I've just kept it and changed it. It was supposed to help me find my bearings."  
The final copy of the list read.

Fact Number 1: Ron is my friend.  
Fact number 2:I was jealous of him and Parvati.  
Fact number 3: Which possibly means that he's more than a friend.   
Fact number 4:I am not, as yet, happy about that fact.  
Fact number 5:I think it's because I'm scared.  
Fact number 6:Ron is amazing and so far removed from "shallow" its not funny.   
Fact number 7: He confuses me.  
Fact number 8:He didn't deserve what Parvati did to him.  
Fact number 9:I don't want to get hurt. Or hurt him.

Ron looked up and stared at her with amazed eyes. "Hermione- you really wrote this all that time ago?"  
"It was a bit different then," Hermione laughed. She was feeling teary. There was so much emotion surrounding it all, thinking back on those stupid few weeks where Ron was going out with Parvati reminded her how it all started. Lying on each other in front of the entire common room, running out of the Three Broomsticks because she couldn't bear seeing Parvati and Ron holding hands, arguing with Parvati in the Great hall, and then again in the common room, fighting with Ron _constantly_ during that time, and then, chasing harry, who was chasing Ron, seeing Ron spin around a clip harry on the side of the face, having her heart break for him because seeing him hurt as much as he had been was painful. And then Parvati and Ron had broken up, and she had gotten closer to Harry, and closer to Ron. The lines of friendship between them blurred considerably during that time- when they worked late into the night together and spent practically every minute of the day at each other's side. And Ron had defended her in front of everyone, took a hit in the face from Parvati for her, had harboured her on his lap all the way from London. And then both must have realized it- that they weren't friends. They never could be friends. What they had was more. So they had been fighting again, out in the snow- Hermione had even hit him, called their friendship a waste of time- and then last night everything that was whirling around them had come to a stop when she kissed him.   
"Ron- if what you wrote in that letter is true- if you really think that I'm more than your best friend- then why…why did you pull away last night?"  
Ron swallowed. "Well…why did you kiss me?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Ron grinned. "I think I can guess Hermione." He swallowed again. "Look- the reason I pulled away is for the same reason that you kissed me in the first place."   
"I don't understand."

He pushed his stomach closer to her knees and brought her hands up so that he was holding them just in front of her heart. "What we have- whatever it is- means too much to me to let you start it off when you weren't yourself. For all I know you could have been making a drunken mistake. And also- if this is something- of this is for real- I couldn't let our first kiss be…you know, all weird. You really did look beautiful last night Hermione, but the person I've grown to have feelings for is _you_. Not someone in make up and a pretty purple dress." Hermione felt tears leak out of her eyes but she didn't care. Ron was saying exactly what she'd need to hear from him- since forever. He put his hand up to wipe away her tears and continued. "It's not that I mind when you do dress up- of course not!- but I think you look beautiful all the time. And God- it's not like I _wanted_ to pull away. But I couldn't let you do something that might have been a mistake. You'd never forgive yourself." He grinned again and Hermione laughed. "Whereas I could forgive you quite easily. So tell me right now, Miss Granger…" his face hadn't a trace of the grin left on it. "Was it a drunken mistake?"

She took an agonising few seconds to answer. Ron thought his heart was about to explode. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, like she had on that day when she followed him down to the lake.  
"Ron," she whispered. "You of all people should know that I never make mistakes."  
There was nothing Ron to do but hug her, which is what he did. He wrapped his arms around her so tightly she gasped, but laughed delightedly when he pulled her off the kitchen counter and whirled her around. Their first real hug. 

Hermione's feet were only dangling a few inches from the floor but she felt as though she was flying. This was wonderful- nothing she had ever felt could compare to the feeling she had now, in Ron's arms. There was nothing of the analysing, the worrying, the agony that she had felt while she had been falling for him- this was easy, this was _amazing_. It cost her nothing to put her feet back on the ground and to wrap her arms tightly around his waist, to bury her face in his warm sweater, to be enveloped in his embrace. Why, it was as easy as falling off the Eiffel tower.

It was all Ron could do not to run outside and yell her name so loudly the whole world could hear. His heart was bursting with tenderness. She was so beautiful and he had her in his arms- it was an amazing feeling. She ran a hand up his back, pleasantly firm, and then lifted her head from his chest. Ron felt as though someone had lifted his head from his shoulders and filled it with air.   
"I think I can say it now," Ron said breathlessly. He bent his head low, so he could say it to her face. Even with her in his arms it still took a few more deep breath before he could finally put to words the way he felt. "This may sound a bit stupid," he began, "and I may be stating the obvious…." _Say it_, he willed himself. It was much easier to say when her eyes were looking right into his. "Hermione, I…." _This would be so much easier if my voice stayed in the one key,_ he thought furiously, sturggling to continue. "I'm really, really…stupid for you."

"Really?" Hermione breathed. Her heart was spinning. She was far too clever not to know what he really meant. "I think we're both stupid," she said, struggling not to laugh. "But you know…that's what being- I mean, that's what we're all about. We're both really, really stupid."   
Ron grinned. They laughed, and shared another warm embrace. Ron continued talking into her ear. "I mean it Hermione. All this time we could have just...admitted it. We could have gotten rid of all that stale air between us and…"  
"Done this?" Hermione said. She agreed, personally. It was stupid. They were both stupid. To have let it hang in the air for so long, when they could have been in each others arms was ridiculous.   
Ron laughed breathlessly as she drew back to look at his face. They both knew what was coming next.

The kiss. It had to be perfect. And god, it was. It was just as warm and wonderful as it had been the night before, but this time, he didn't pull away. He wouldn't have pulled away for the world. He had just admitted to Hermione the depth of his feelings and it was impossibly amazing to kiss her. She pulled her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Ron slipped his arms down to the small of her back so that it was easier to lean over her, the better to kiss her. She was a good deal shorter than him but he wouldn't have traded her for any girl in the world. 

Their kiss deepened- Hermione felt as though her head was filled with fizzy air. Ron's arms encircled her warmly as they slipped down lower to the small of her back. With that support she was able to lean back in his arms. She trusted him completely. It was her first _real_ kiss. (And no, she didn't count the time Rory Smythington snogged her in the playground on her first day of school, or the nervous peck on the lips Viktor Krum had given her after the Yule Ball last year.) 

Ron sensed she wanted to break away, so he straightened and loosened his embrace. They were both breathless. Hermione had drawn her hands back from around his neck so that they rested on his chest. She stared up at him with her velvety eyes- she looked (Ron's mouth went dry) almost frightened. "Are you okay?" he said softly, realising his heart was beating a mile a minute as though someone had just given him a fright, too. "I'm sorry- did I do something wrong, I-"  
Hermione shook her head. "This is so…stupid." And so saying, she grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him down to her. The kiss was much firmer than their first, and as she brought her hands up to slide her arms around his neck, she ran her hands through his hair, trailing gently down his back. Ron lifted her from the ground again, and they kissed in the kitchen with the white sunlight sparkling down on them. It was stupid. (It was love).

Unfortunately, everything abruptly came to and end when George appeared in the kitchen, having just arrived home with Fred and Mr. Weasley, and gave an excited squeal, and yelled over his shoulder. "I _knew_ it! Fred- you owe me six Galleons!"


	16. EPILOGUE

****

EPILOGUE

__

A/N: It took a while, but here's a stupid end to a crappy story. Hurrah! 

"They're both stupid," Harry told Sirius a few days later. His godfather gave him a dry grin.

"For being in love? I distinctly remember you getting quite upset only a few weeks ago because you thought they would never be friends again. Now they're more than friends, and one would think you'd be happy." 

"No, what I meant was, they're stupid because they think I don't know." Harry gestured to Ron and Hermione, who were wandering down Stoatshead Hill away from them. (Actually, Harry hadn't figured it out by himself- George had told him that he'd found them snogging in the kitchen, although Harry was disinclined to believe him until he heard a whispered argument between Ron and Hermione while they were waiting for him to come out of the bathroom). The trio had made the trek up the steep hill for one last meeting with Sirius before he went "away"- where, he refused to say- and the four of them had had a long and involved discussion about everything except Percy. And where Sirius would be going shortly. At Harry's request, Ron and Hermione had left Sirius and Harry alone for a bit so they could say goodbye, but Harry was left with the feeling that it was Sirius and himself who were leaving the other two alone. The wide open space of Staotshead hill was also making him uneasy. "Maybe we should have gone into the orchard again."

"No," said Sirius, "not with Fred Weasley and his girlfriend around. I was going for a wander in the orchard the other day and I practically fell over them. Luckily I transformed before they noticed anything."

"What?" Harry said, alarmed, "you never told me that!" 

Sirius shrugged. "I didn't want you to get upset. It was fun, actually, I played fetch with them for an hour or so."

Harry snorted. "You must be the only grown man in England who gets excited about playing fetch- with a couple of teenagers."

"I don't know about that. Haven't you read anything about Prince Charles in the paper lately?" 

"Very droll," Harry laughed. He looked back at Ron and Hermione, who were walking toward the ditch at the bottom of the hill but had their faces turned toward each other. As he watched, Ron put one hand on Hermione's back to steady her, and as she reached behind to remove it- as their hands touched- they looked at each other with what could only be described as adoration. Harry snorted derisively. He had interrogated Ron in a vague, awkward sort of way the previous day and the only thing close to a confession he could get on Ron's part was, "She's someone I can just…be stupid with."

"Well, _I_ think it's sweet," said Sirius, correctly reading his godson's disgusted expression.

"I'm sure you think a lot of things," sniggered Harry, ducking as his godfather made to clip him on the ear. 

"Well, Mr. Peanut Gallery, I'm afraid it's time for me to leave, anyway," Sirius laughed, gathering up his things.

"Right now?"

"'Fraid so, kiddo," Sirius said. Harry's heart sank, and he turned away quickly to look at Ron and Hermione. They had stopped at the edge of the ditch, and they were holding each other in what looked to be a very warm embrace. Sirius followed his gaze.

"God," he said, with a short laugh, "I just keep thinking of the first time I met them. Lots of changes, Harry, lots of changes." 

"It takes a lot for things to change that much though," Harry said, with a gesture toward his friends. He wondered if he would ever see the both of the in the throes of an argument with each there again, then dismissed it. It wouldn't matter anyway, since they'd both been falling for each other for so long. And he was desperately grateful that Hermione's back-breaking effort into the relationship hadn't gone astray. For once, Ron hadn't missed the point. 

Sirius was staring up at the sky. He did this often, when he was outdoors- it was a melancholy mannerism that Harry supposed stretched back to the days when the Dark Mark would often mark the sky. At present it was pale grey with clouds, with the December wind pushing the odd dead black leaf or too across it. A beautiful winter day… For a while, they both stared upward, until a long sigh from Sirius indicated he was about speak.

"You can't stop the world moving," he said finally. "It's a long road that moves under your feet, and sometimes it betrays you and leads you into the dark. But other times…." He looked back down again, back down at Ron and Hermione, two figures wrapped around each other, for all the world as though they had been like that forever. "Sometimes there's hope. And that's why you keep walking."

Harry didn't say anything, but he felt a shift in his mood. Hope. Despite everything that went on in the world, Ron and Hermione had followed their own path and found each other along the way. It was a nice thought. Sirius squeezed his shoulder. "Listen," he said, looking grave again, "I have to go. I want you to do something for me while I'm away."

"Yeah?" Harry said, immediately alert.

"Relax." Sirius slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Spend some time with your friends and forget about everything that's happening. And if your friends are busy- as they well might be, with each other- then spend some time with Ginny. She does you good." Harry managed a smile, even though he had to turn his face a bit to hide the fact that he was blushing. It was true he had been uptight lately, but things were looking better. Ron and Hermione had fallen for each other; that had to be a good sign. And of course, there was Ginny, always warm and accommodating. Sirius gave his godson a crooked grin. "All right then? I've got to go."

"I'll walk you."

"Nope. Too dangerous. I'm Padfooting it. And also, I'm late." He did something that he had never done before- he leant down and gave Harry an awkward hug. Harry was equally moved and terrified. A lump rose very quickly in his throat. 

"Sirius," he managed, as his godfather pulled back. "Am I going to see you again?"

"Without a doubt," Sirius said, quick to reassure him. "It's just that I'll be a couple of months at the least. But I'll owl you and Dumbledore every week, okay? And Harry-" he said, straightening up, "if I hear anything more about you getting into trouble…" he raised a finger. "Then I'll be very proud."

Harry grinned. "On your bike, then." His godfather gave him a sharp nod and then, with little more than a whoosh of air, transformed into the great grim dog that was Padfoot. He ran around Harry's calves, barked three times, and then darted away down Hill, with his rucksack dangling from his jaws. Harry watched the dog until he disappeared. 

For a long time, he stayed up there, alone. The air was fresh and clean, with the promise of rain later on- a good day for flying. Harry thought that maybe things weren't so ridiculous after all, but maybe they were meant to be this way. It was such a long thought that it took him a while of deep concentration to assemble it in his head.

Not even the crunching of boots alerted him to the approach of people- and not until they sat down, one of either side of him, did he realise that it was Ron and Hermione. 

"Thought we'd join you," said Ron.

"Unless you'd like us to leave." Hermione added.

Harry grinned. "Oh, finishing each other's sentences now, are we?" He didn't need to look at them to know that they were blushing, but they all giggled anyway. A reckless breath of air leapt across the ground, whipping several dead leaves from the old ash tree nearby into a frenzy. 

It was Ron who finally spoke what Harry was wondering. "Things won't change between us, Harry. You might as well know, though, that Hermione and I…"

"Are completely stupid and think I don't already know." Harry finished. He turned and grinned at Ron, who had the decency to look down with and embarrassed grin. Hermione let out a peal of delighted laughter.

"Harry!" she said, and grabbed him in a hug. "We're sorry we didn't tell you."

"You didn't need to say a word," Harry said dryly, deciding not to tell them about George's revelation. "So, what happens now, anyway?"

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"Where do we go from here?" Harry said. Ron took Hermione's hand, and the three of them looked around themselves- at the top of Stoatshead hill, you could see as far as the village of Ottery St Catchpole; on the other side, The Burrow, the orchard, the moor, and beyond, far beyond- the hills. The world spread itself below them as a wild and woolly countryside, with the air dancing around them, breaking the silence. whistling like a mad chorus made to underscore the magnificent world. The world that they lived in, the world that was always going to change.

Harry leaned against both of them in a sort of pseudo hug. Ron's hand ruffled his hair, and Hermione's arms squeezed his waist reassuringly. 

"I don't think it matters," she said, for all of them, "as long as we go it together."

Harry threw back his head and laughed, and as Ron and Hermione joined in, another madcap breeze captured the sounds of their laughter and threw it out into the sky. 

****

THE END. (Really, it is.)

AN: A huge buttload of thanks to every single person who reviewed this at any time from anywhere with any comment. (Yes, I am desperate for reviews. Shut up.) I'd also like to thank Orlando Bloom, for being so goddam sexy and for being my future husband. As always, this fic is dedicated to my best friends (who shall remain nameless) and JK Rowling. (Oh my god, the poor woman. If she had a grave she would be spinning it it.)  
On another note, BOOK FIVE! HURRAAAAH! Everyone stand up right now and do the Book Five dance. You can't see me (hopefully) but I'm doing it right now.  
Anyway, that's it. I also want everyone to read the sequel "Something Stupider" because it's even worse than this one and should confirm your worst suspicions about me (i.e.: I can't write for shite). Oh my god I just looked at my watch and realised I'm going to be late for a class. Okay, that's it, the end.


End file.
